


Father Knows Best

by Night28



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Am I doing this right?, Canon-Typical Violence, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Possessive Behavior, Self-Harm, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tag more as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night28/pseuds/Night28
Summary: In a BDSM Universe, Malcolm Bright, formerly Whitly, has hidden his dynamic to ensure that it can't be used against him.Already fighting the shame of having a serial killer for a father, Malcolm does his best to appear dynamicless. But when a copycat forces Malcolm back into contact with Dr. Martin Whitly, Malcolm clings to his secret all while trying to discover what really happened twenty years ago with the girl in the box.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my second fic overall and I'm not sure how this is going to go. TBH I did steal a lot of the dialogue from the first episode and did some reworking of that, too. When I get the next chapter up, I'll diverge and focus on other stuff. I'm very aware that this is a problematic ship and I con't condone this IRL. If this isn't your cup of tea please don't read this. I think it's terrible, but I'm always open to constructive critisim, so please drop me a comment and tell me what I can improve on. Now I'm going to anxiously wait for tomorrow's episode. If you have any concerns, please message me and I'll let you know if you're worried about triggers. As a person with Depression/Anxiety, this is important to me.

At 21, Malcolm Whitley’s hand shook at the sight of an official letter that had come in, it laid innocuously on his bed. He knew that this had been coming but it didn’t make the situation any better. _You’ve prepped for this, you know the right answers to all the questions to not be classified as what you really are. _

Malcolm slapped one hand to steady himself as he opened what felt like his death sentence. He skimmed the letter, looking for the date. _OK_, Malcolm mused, _six weeks to make sure that my true dynamic stays off everything._ It’s hard enough to be a serial killer’s son, let alone his submissive son who may have developed an unhealthy relationship that’s ruined Malcolm for anyone else. Without his permission, memories of his f– Dr. Whitley cupping his neck, squeezing and how easily that settled him. For years he’d known his designation but went as long as legally possible before being required to officially test his dynamic and it go on all legal documents. _Would cause so many issues – getting into the FBI, being scrutinized more for being a Sub. Mother._ Too much rode on this for Malcolm’s future, his father wouldn’t take this from him. He’d already lost so much in quick succession. He wasn’t about to be saddled with a dynamic where he would be required to submit or take breaks. _Survived my father, nothing can be worse than that. _

**

Malcolm listened as his mother’s footsteps faded, waited until he heard the door open, close, and the lock click. Pulling out the box he’d hidden from his mother and sister, a weight pressed down on Malcolm’s lungs.

_He can’t hurt you, can’t control you. Ten years and he’s not getting out. _

A fortifying breath later, Malcolm sifted through the box. Newspaper clippings, crime scene photos, a small leather notebook. As he shoved his emotions away, Malcolm the details and let himself get lost in the creation of this killer’s profile. Hours passed until his phone buzzed, which pulled him slightly from all the information he was looking at. Prepared to ignore it, it buzzed again, this time, he saw Gil’s name flash. Sighing, Malcolm grabbed his phone and read the texts.

_ Bed, city boy, get some rest. _

_Now._

Malcolm huffed, then looking at the time, realized he should at least try, since it was almost 3 in the morning. He tapped out a quick text before tossing his clothes in his hamper and continuing with the nightly ritual of strapping himself down and taking his medications. He was taken aback when all the sudden his eyes were so very heavy. As his head hit the pillow, Malcolm slept.

Malcolm woke abruptly, screams muffled around his mouthguard, muscles straining against the soft leather, and tears streaming from grey eyes. Malcolm’s chest heaving, he clicked the restraints off._ Always worse after family interaction. Though she might pretend, she doesn’t want me here,_ he thought idly. Malcolm slipped out of bed, letting his body take over. Routine typically centered him, but today, it only seemed to stop his hands from trembling, something’s off. He ran through a mental check list of probable causes, a sudden thought dawned.

“Shit.” Malcolm dropped his face into his hands. He wanted to scream, throw something. _Fucking dynamic_, he thought viciously, a silent snarl on his lips. _Couldn’t have been a Dom, or God forbid, actually dynamicless._ “No time for this, not with a copycat.” Malcolm shook himself.

_Get through the case, then Drop, and pretend like everything is fine. Like normal._

His phone vibrated, pulling Malcolm out of his head and focus back on the case. Gil, the caller ID flashed, perfect.

“Bright.” Gil’s deep voice calmed him, “headed to the morgue. Need a ride?”

“No,” it was out before he realized it, “see you there.” Malcolm ended the call before Gil could ask anything. No reason to give Gil more time to realize Malcolm was hiding something. The man already had his suspicions, no reason to confirm anything. After all, his ID said switch, which wasn’t illegal but definitely fell within some very grey area.

Malcolm had the most exciting day that he could remember in the last few years. Going with Dani and JT, getting Niko out of the apartment before it blew up, having a profile be off. _Nothing can bring this down,_ he thought. Then the phone vibrated. Text from Ainsley. _Shit, forgot._ Making his excuses, he left the station, directing the cabbie to drop him at his loft. Malcolm had noticed the blood on the collar of his shirt and while Mother was oblivious about many things, blood would never escape her notice.

As he and Ainsley were slyly making faces at each other, his Mother rambled on. At least some things will never change, Malcolm mused, until his phone vibrated. _Gil, maybe I can get out early…_

“Am I keeping you from something, Dear?”

“Huh, oh, uh no, nothing important. You were talking about … Egypt?”

Mother’s gaze sharpened and she took in Malcolm, “what aren’t you telling me?” For all that he was able to keep things from everyone, Malcolm’s Mother could always tell when he lied, fuck the tremors.

“Ainsley, give.”

Ainsley doesn’t last a second, “he’s working for the NYPD on the new serial killer investigation.”

Malcolm tunes out for a moment until he realized that Mother had asked him something. “Because, uh, this new killer is,” Malcolm paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Copying The Surgeon.” He can see it in his Mother’s body language her distaste and irritation at not being normal. Malcolm let her ramble and as she stormed off, Ainsley tried to stop her. With dinner ending early, Malcolm kissed his sister’s cheek and left.

Anxiety had Malcolm pacing in front of the evidence board, trying to see what he’d missed. His vision blurred for a moment, which caused him to stumble slightly. _May be best to take a seat._ Malcolm clutched the coffee cup and tried to keep his focus on the evidence. Slowly his body went lax, unbidden, Malcolm’s eyes started to have long blinks. The next thing he’s aware of is Powell holding him, she yelled for the officers around her to stop, Malcolm hadn’t noticed the guns, just that there was a voice telling him that it’s just a dream. Then suddenly Gil’s helping him to his feet, a calloused hand rested on his nape and directed him into the elder man’s office. The hand stayed on Malcolm’s neck for a few minutes before one last squeeze and then Gil’s across from him.

“They’re called pavor nocturnus. Night terrors and they’re not fun. On the bright side, they’re ruining my life.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm glanced toward Dani and then looked back at Gil. “I didn’t hurt her, did I?”

With a scoff, Gil said, “Dani’s from the Bronx, tougher than both of us.”

Malcolm smiled softly as he answered, “like Jackie.”

Gil fiddled with his ring, “Bronx girl, loved you like family. Worried every time you went to go see your father.”

“Don’t worry Gil, I’m fine. I’ve got it under control.” Malcolm attempted to smile, something that usually worked when his surrogate father had that concerned look.

“Under control? You chopped off a man’s hand, a maniac is copying your father’s murders, and six cops nearly shot you. You are anything but in control.”

Inside Malcolm felt the submissive part of his brain, the one ready to Drop start to take a nose dive, _I’ve upset one Dom, he knows, he can get me removed, force me—_ Malcolm forced himself to stop, _Gil may know, but he wouldn’t do that to me._

“What does that mean? You agree with the FBI?”

Gil frowned, “I’ve known you for 20 years. You’re on edge.”

Malcolm stood, “you’re right. There’s a fourth victim out there, and I can save her. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

They stared each other down, Gil in worry and Malcolm prepared to keep himself on the case. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“You found something,” Malcolm’s grey eyes flashed in excitement, he could save the last one! “What is it?”

With a deep sigh, Gil handed over three cylindrical pipes with caps. Malcolm forced his hands not to tremble as Gil gave them over. “FID pulled these out of Nico’s apartment. Open it.”

“These sketches show the first three methods from The Quartet. My Father drew these,” Malcolm felt his stomach fall to the floor. So much for not seeing him again.

“I know, but how did our killer get them? Your dad’s still locked up at Claremont Psychiatric.”

For a brief moment, Gil and Malcolm had a silent argument before Malcolm said, “Well, I’ll go ask him.” Not waiting for Gil’s response, Malcolm rushed out of the precinct and steeled himself to get on a bus and go back after a decade and a promise to never go back.

Martin took his boy in. _How you’ve grown!_ The roundness of youth had sharpened with age. The beautiful grey eyes gave him so much on Malcolm. _Exhaustion, my poor boy._ Martin put that thought on hold, instead focusing on what his boy held. A file, NYPD. _So from the FBI to the NYPD, my boy, you’re so much better. _

“Malcolm, my boy.” He breathed deep, trying to keep Malcolm’s scent. A true smile, one only reserved for Malcolm made its way to Martin’s lips.

Malcolm’s shoulders rolled, “Dr. Whitley.”

Martin wanted so much to cup his boy’s face, hold him again after so long. You want to keep distance, but it won’t last, Malcolm, you must know that. “God, I can’t believe it… Ten years.”

Malcolm looked away quickly, seemingly unable to hold Martin’s gaze. “Nice cell, who paid for it?”

“Oh, you’d be amazed at what our Saudi friends will pay a disgraced cardiothoracic surgeon.” Martin paused, “your eyes. You look exhausted.” _Father and doctor m’boy. My Malcolm needs rest. He needs me._ Martin fell into memories, of Malcolm’s nightmares as a boy, how Martin held him, and Malcolm would bury his face into Martin’s neck. _How many nights I stayed with you, and your dreams wouldn’t haunt you._ Long ago Martin learned that his boy responded well to a hand on his nape, holding or gripping would give him a lap full of calm Malcolm. A Sub most likely or a Switch -- that should be established now. As a Dom, it was the one thing that soothed him, even at the greatest desire to end a life. Always his boy, much as he loved his daughter, Malcolm was the only one who roused the Dom part of him. _Mine. _Especially with the boy's mother not having a dynamic, Malcolm was truly the only one he was able to be truly himself around.

Malcolm deflected, "You have a copycat.”

_Oh! How wonderful! You’re solving them, my sweet boy._ Martin let their usual back and forth banter take over. Eyes still trying to make up for the ten years since they’d last been in the same space, one that was much smaller. Martin looked at the drawings, confused, then gestured toward the shelf.

Malcolm grabbed the journal. As though a thought had struck, Malcolm moved from the journal to the files that Martin kept on his desk. “Malcolm, what are you doing? There’s 40 files in there.”

“The suspect, I think he’s a patient.”

Though not showing it, Martin was proud, a balloon swelled in his chest, _Malcolm, my intelligent boy, saving the day._ Two files and Martin waited, the flipping pages stopped. “You winnowed all those down to just two? Well, tell me. Who’s the killer? I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“There isn’t enough detail… I need you, their doctor. Patients tell you things nobody else knows. What isn’t in these files?”

“Malcolm,” it wasn’t a tone he used on his boy often, but as Martin saw Malcolm’s Adam’s apple bob, he took great pleasure in his son reacting to the dominance in the tone, before he shook it off. Then suddenly Malcolm turned the tables. Bright grey eyes flittered over Martin, taking in all the small details. As the boy calls out his fear, Martin can’t help but be impressed. As Malcolm backed him into the corner, Martin threw out an observation to shake his boy.

“So, you’re old enough now that your dynamic would have settled.” Not having been asked directly, Malcolm still froze, as though this hadn’t been brought up to him before.

“You’re afraid that I won’t come back. That once I walk out of here, that’ll be it. You’ll never see me again. Tell me, and I’ll come back.”

Those grey eyes, so beautiful, my boy’s so handsome, Martin mused, “your dynamic?”

A muscle jerked in Malcolm’s cheek, “Dr. Whitley, that’s not your concern. Tell me and I’ll come back, I promise.” Martin took in his boy for a minute, Malcolm had always been one to honor a promise, Jess had made use of that when he was younger, to her benefit. He took the file gently from his son, before turning it around. “Carter Berkhead, the developer. He had his heart attack whilst whipping some poor submissive in a sex dungeon.”

Martin kept eye contact with Malcolm, slightly aroused as he watched the boy’s pupils dilate. _An indication to submissive inclination, but … Oh, my boy, surely you’re not hiding, pretending to be something else. _

“Your dynamic?”

Malcolm shook his head, “thank you Dr. Whitley.” With a flurry of his coat, Malcolm all but fled from his- Martin’s cell.

Martin waited for the guard to come back in, “I’d like to call my lawyer, please.” David nodded. Getting the phone and walked out. Once Martin was sure that David wouldn’t be able to overhear, he dialed a number for a P. I. that he’d used before and kept on the payroll.

“DeLorenzo,” a rough voice answered.

“Ah, Mr. DeLorenzo, Martin Whitley. I’ve got an assignment for you.” A grunt on the other end, and Martin continued on, “I need you to stay on Malcolm Bright, tell me everything he does, where he’s going, seeing, talking to. If you’re able to, monitor police reports. I must know everything. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Dr. Whitley. I’ll make weekly reports.” A slight pause, “anything specifically you want?”

With a soft hum, he added, “his medical files if at all possible. But those will have been split. Find Malcolm Whitley and then Malcolm Bright.”

“Of course.”

The called ended and Martin called his lawyers to have them wire over a payment to DeLorenzo. _You can’t hide from me Malcolm, not when you hurt yourself. My sweet submissive boy, how long since you’ve submitted?_ Martin thought as he ran his fingers through his beard.

Malcolm fled, can’t call it anything else. He at least suspects, even if he doesn’t know for certain. Phone in hand, Malcolm called Gil. “He told me who it is. Carter Burkhead.”

“Dani’s on her way to Mrs. Burkhead now.”

A manic grin twisted Malcolm’s lips, “I’ll meet her there.” Everything was a blur, getting to the gala and then Malcolm stood in front of Carter, syringe aimed at his Radial vein.

_ I deserve this, always have. Loving the monster he is. Running away, not staying gone._ Malcolm felt as though he was under water, Carter’s facial expression changed at his words. A flash of disgust, then the gloved hand reached for the plunger._ Over soon,_ he mused, Dani’s panicked words not penetrating the fog. In quick secession, Carter started pushing the plunger, the door banged open, then shots fired.

Malcolm fell to his knees, the urge to Drop played havoc but he refused to, to give his secret to anyone. After a lie, Malcolm stood and left, making sure to avoid his Mother. No need to have her know and break into his flat again. As his feet crossed the threshold, Malcolm bit his lip, _should Drop, but I won’t. Pull it all back in and suck it up._ He reached for numbness and forced his body to relax after all, tomorrow would be another visit to Dr. Whitley.

An unexpected visitor came into Martin’s cell right as visiting hours started. Long dark hair and eyes gazed at him as Martin turned to the room at large. _And this is why I’ve kept you on my payroll,_ he mused as DeLorenzo held a file.

The man nodded and Martin gestured at the folding chair. “That was much quicker than I anticipated. Anything regarding his case that wrapped last night?”

A soft clearing of the throat and the man nodded, “got one of my contacts to give me the official report and the unofficial one. Also have some photos of Bright. A few with the detectives. Official version is Detective Powell and Mr. Bright confronted the suspect, then superior officer Arroyo shot and disabled the suspect as he attacked Bright.” DeLorenzo paused, “unofficially, Bright gave his real surname and offered to let Mr. Burkhead kill him and finish The Quartet. Something along the lines of punishing him for his betrayal of you.”

Rage boiled in Martin stomach; _how dare he touch my son! Lucky that he won’t be sent here, pity though. No one ever touches my Malcolm. He’ll be disciplined by my hand alone._ “Is Malcolm alright?”

Though he kept his face relaxed, Martin knew that DeLorenzo was uncomfortable. “Yeah, he slipped out of the building, avoiding both your daughter and Mrs. Whitley. Tailed him to his loft. I can see about getting into there and potentially getting cameras installed?”

Martin hummed, then nodded. “You said you have pictures?” The file folder was handed over, “it’s been a short time, but anything on his medical records? No fault if there hasn’t been. I’m all too aware of how long it can take.”

“No, sir, but that’s what today’s plan is. I’ll be in contact once I have those for you.”

With that, the PI left Martin to the information that’d been gathered so far. _Pictures or information?_ The desire to see more of his boy won out, passing over the information to the stack of pictures on top. For the most part, the pictures were of Malcolm alone. Martin knew his son, for all that Malcolm looked untroubled, Martin saw the dark circles, how Malcolm’s shoulders were curled in, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. _Oh my boy, you suffer so, but soon I’ll have you, keep you safe. You won’t have to hide your dynamic from me, as you have the rest of the world._ As he thumbed through the pictures, Martin stopped, he saw red, wanted nothing more than to remove the man's hand from _his boy_. An older man cupped the back of Malcolm’s neck, eyes soft and hand gentle on Malcolm. _MINE. Doubtless, this is Arroyo. _

But before he could truly react, there was a knock on his door and David stepped in. “Mr. Bright’s here to see you, Dr. Whitley. Would you like to meet with him?”

The desire to snarl at the man was great but Martin at least respected the man and his politeness. “Yes, please. It’s much appreciated.”

Martin stood, time to test a theory. Malcolm looked gaunt, like he hadn’t rested in the time after wrapping the case up. He refused to meet Martin’s eyes and he paced.

“My boy,” Martin breathed, “I wasn’t sure that you’d come back.”

A smirk crossed his face, “When have I ever broken a promise? After all, I was taught that a man stands by his promises.”

Silence descended between the pair, Malcolm’s feet hardly made any noise on the cement floor as he paced.

“Won’t you sit my boy, let’s go over the case.” Martin made it a suggestion, not putting any hint of command behind it. Malcolm ignored him and continued his pacing and did everything but look at Martin. No change, but there’s desperation that’s clearly there.

“I won’t be here long, Dr. Whitley, let’s make this short and we can both be on with our day.”

_Oh Malcolm, you’re fighting so hard. Fighting nature is hard, son. But not to worry, we’ll fix that soon._ “Malcolm, sit down,” Martin tapped into his Dom voice and he wriggled with pleasure internally when Malcolm’s sure steps faltered. Then he quickly moved over to the folding chair and made himself small but kept his eyes trained on his knee.

_Good boy, so good. We’ll work on eye contact._

He focused on Malcolm as his boy gave a much abridged version of events. Even as Martin wanted nothing more that to tell Malcolm he knew about his brush with death, his attempt to pay for what could be perceived as a betrayal._ I know you, you were scared, and someone, either that detective or your Mother forced that promise out of you. _

“There’s one thing I can’t figure out. How did Carter Burkhead know which pages to take from your journal?”

“That’s an excellent question.”

Malcolm adjusted his posture, “here’s another. Did you orchestrate all of this just to get me back? The Quartet, everything?”

Martin chuckled, “Mal, you’re letting your imagination get the better of you, my boy. I can’t do that.”

Malcolm shrugged and stood.

The words were out of his mouth before Martin could stop them, “Wait, you can’t leave.” With Malcolm’s back to him, Martin could see the muscles tense under the coat he wore.

“What did you say?”

Martin’s heart rate accelerated and stumbled over his words, “I—I should have been more supportive of you joining the FBI. I was stubborn and we lost ten years. Watching you in action was exhilarating. I realized that I can help you!”

Malcolm scoffed, “I don’t need your help.”

Martin sighed, “I don’t want to lose you again, I’ve missed you, Mal.”

Even with Malcolm’s back to him, Martin heard an audible swallow and hoped for a brief moment before Malcolm muttered, “Goodbye, Dr. Whitley.”

A soft smile curled Martin’s lips, “My boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys! My life kinda got outta control in October, but I'm hoping I get more writing done soon. I'm not totally sure I like this chapter, but I need it posted before I lose my mind. I'm open to any constructive criticism and things. But anyway, I hope y'all had a wonderful Halloween! Also I couldn't help myself, I love Good Omens. Side note, the angel Raziel is known as the "Keeper of Secrets"; I thought it fit. Also, there are instances of panic/anxiety attacks. I don't want anyone to be triggered reading this.  
You can also find me on Tumblr as SlytherinInDenial.

It’d been the hardest thing, leaving f-- Dr. Whitly’s cell. That small command pushed Malcolm hard, the need never going away, always there. Anxiety reared its head, _he knows, he knows, he knows._ The mantra beat at the walls of his mind, but Malcolm forced himself to slow down and breathe. _Followed the order, doesn’t automatically mean Sub to him. He’ll assume Switch—with how law enforcement works, he’ll assume Switch_, Malcolm tried to reassure himself though it sounded hollow. His phone started ringing, trembling hands fumbled while he answered, not looking at the ID.

“Bright.”

“Malcolm, darling, where are you?” Jessica’s voice immediately shoved all thought of submission and secrets to the back of his mind.

“Mother.”

A put-upon sigh, “Malcolm, I simply care about you. Can’t a Mother check in?”

An elegant snort forced its way out before Malcolm could stop it, “we both know each other too well for that. But if we must, I’m currently wandering around the city, and you, Mother?”

“Well, since you’re out, be a dear and come home.”

Malcolm sighed into the phone, “I was headed to my loft, actually. I planned on working some profiles for Gil. I’ll be—”

“Go to your loft if you must, but there’s a gala that I’d like you to accompany me to,” there was a slight pause, “after all you profile for a living, why not enjoy a Saturday?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have Ainsley go? She is after all better at socialization than I am.”

“I haven’t spent much time with you since you moved home, I’ve seen your sister more frequently than I have you. You’ll join me, yes?” Malcolm knew, even shaped as a request, this was very much a demand.

“Of course, Mother.”_ Know your battles, get there, get her a drink, and then find a corner_, while he’d been giving himself a pep talk Jessica continued speaking in his ear.

“Wonderful, darling I’ll send Adolfo with the car in a bit.” The called ended, Malcolm sighed a flagged a taxi. _Exactly what I need, socialites and more than likely, matchmaking_. A shudder slid down his spine,_ is it too much to hope for a murder?_

After getting situated in the cab, Malcolm tried to let the cityscape dull the anxiety that built from the time with his father and his mother’s phone call._ There goes the chance to Drop and recover without anyone the wiser._ Malcolm reached deep, pulled, and forced himself to bury the need to submit. The cab rolled to a stop in front of his building, Malcolm paid and gave the man a hefty tip. Before Malcolm headed into his home, he glanced around hypervigilance yet another result of his serial killer father. _Nothing out of the ordinary, now to get ready for a wonderful gala. _

Time slipped away as Malcolm dressed, slowly making himself into the proper socialite son. Even before turning Dr. Whitly in, Malcolm hadn’t cared for these functions. Though his mother wouldn’t be fooled, Malcolm gently dabbed concealer under his eyes, a futile attempt to try and hide noticeable tells of exhaustion. _Mother will see straight through, but whoever she’s hoping to force me to spend the evening with won’t know. _

About 20 minutes later, Malcolm got a text, outside darling. A deep sigh and Malcolm grabbed his keys and pocketed his phone. He started to put on his mask, the socialite, single son. The small smile Malcolm tried to force his face into felt wrong, twisted. _Seriously Mother, Ains is so much better at this than I am._ You_ know that._ Adolfo opened the door and he slipped in next to Jessica. Her long hair in neat curls loose around her face.

“Mother,” he murmured with a peck to the cheek. “Beautiful as always.”

Her own socialite personality firmly in place, “Malcolm, if you would be this charming, I would have a daughter in law.”

Malcolm shook his head, “you and I both know that me getting married is about as likely as humans breathing underwater.”

Jessica shook her head and sighed, “really Malcolm, must you be negative?”

“Mother, I’ve never enjoyed these things, ever. I am accompanying you, because you asked. I’d much rather be home reading.”

Jessica huffed in Malcolm’s direction, “I don’t go because I enjoy these galas, it’s expected as a Milton and a Whitly—Bright in your case.”

He made an acknowledging noise but stayed quiet. _No point to antagonize her. Breathe, get through, home and turn the phone off. At least for a day._ “Who’s hosting this evening?”

Jessica paused, then said, “Grahams. I know that we’ve had … problems in the past, but please try…”

“Not to be me?” Malcolm snarked, “of course, I’ll go hide in the corner, after all, can’t start trouble there.”

“Or God forbid you try and enjoy yourself. After all, I’m sure it’s been awhile since you’ve had a proper scene, find a nice sub to Dom. Or a drink?” Jessica’s frustration with Malcolm was palpable in the car._ Sometimes I miss how easy things used to be, how you actually felt and acted like a Mom._

Malcolm raised an eyebrow and shrugged, “I did suggest Ains. Unless you brought me because there’s something I can get you that Ains can’t?”

“Malcolm!”

“Mother.”

“Don’t, do not take that tone with me.”

A muscle in Malcolm’s jaw jumped, “you don’t bring me to these things, after all I’m the embarrassment of the family. Why on Earth would you think this is the one to bring your fucked up son to? Especially when this is the family that allowed their oldest boys to beat the absolute shit out of me after …” Malcolm trailed off, “unless they’ve asked and what they offered in return is worth more than I ever will be?”

The silence was all the answer Malcolm needed. “Adolfo, please stop the car.”

“Malcolm, please,” she reached out to touch him, “Meredith’s worried about her daughter, says that—”

He cut her off, “obviously my degree’s only useful when it benefits you. Just know, I’m leaving as soon as I handle this.”

The silence that descended in the car was long and uncomfortable. Malcolm crossed his arms and legs, ignoring Jessica for the remainder of their ride. _Remember, you’re the fucked up child, only wanted when it’s at her benefit. Dad didn’t—NO, not going there._ Malcolm closed his eyes, gritted his teeth.

Just as Adolfo pulled up, Jessica turned towards him, “Liv has withdrawn from her family, they think it may have to do with her dynamic. I thought—I know that yours took some time to settle, but—” Jessica trailed off.

Malcolm refused to say anything, God knew what would come out if he did. _Why couldn’t I have a different family? Something that didn’t fuck me over?_ He gave a stiff nod to at least acknowledge her words. The car door opened and Malcolm unfolded from the car, as much as he wished to leave Jessica at the car, the manners he’d been taught reared their head. He offered his arm and she laid her arm in the crook of his elbow. _Breathe Bright, bury the rage, make it through this and leave._

Almost as soon as they were through the door, Meredith Graham was there, Malcolm let mother’s arm fall from his as she gave the standard European peck and calmly waited until their attention turn towards him. “Mrs. Graham,” he nodded.

“Malcolm! So wonderful to see you, it’s been—”

“20 years, I was told you had concerns about Liv? If I may?” Meredith was completely taken aback, but gestured over towards the balcony, “thank you. I’ll leave you to catch up.”

Malcolm slipped through the guests, eyes focused on the open French doors. _What to say, what to say. Ah, the joys of high society and dynamics._ Malcolm thanked any deity that he could think of that his mother was still ignorant of his true dynamic. _It’ll stay that way, even if it kills me._ Once he was through the doors, it wasn’t hard to locate Liv, even if it had been two decades since they’d last seen each other.

Ice blonde hair pinned up in a simple updo, an elegant off the shoulder gown in a soft grey. Malcolm took her in, her posture, head angle, hands. Liv was giving off a lot of stress tells but Malcolm needed more details, with a soft cough, Liv looked over.

Confusion clear on her face, as though trying to place him, “can I help you?”

A soft smile curled the corner of Malcolm’s lips, “well, technically, I was seeing if I could help you.”

A deep exhausted sigh slipped out, “let me guess, my Mother? I’m fine. No need for concern.” She focused in on Malcolm’s eyes, “I know you. Those eyes…. Malcolm?”

A depreciating smile and a soft shrug, “going by Bright now. Easier to get through life. But no, you’re not wrong. She’s concerned,” Malcolm cocked his head, “though why she thinks it’s your dynamic, I’m not sure.”

“I haven’t told her, they’re waiting to know for sure but I’ve known for awhile.”

Malcolm kept his face carefully blank, _of course, well, this’ll be fun._ “How long’s awhile?”

Liv wrung her hands, she kept glancing around to make sure that no one was in their corner, “About three years. I, the paperwork has to be in soon and I—I have no idea what to do. I don’t want my dynamic, at all.” Her shoulders sagged in, as though the weight was crushing her, “if I put my real dynamic down, they,” she gestured vaguely with a tilt of her head, “will somehow find a way to use that and make connections.” She snorted, “God this sounds like some ridiculous Jane Austen novel.”

Malcolm glanced around, taking more time to study to ensure that no one would overhear, “do what you need to do. Just remember, it needs to be believable, something that you’ll be able to keep under wraps.” As she opened her mouth to speak, Malcolm raised his hand, “let’s simply say, I understand. Do some research on Switches – they’re easiest to hide as but if you think you can pull it off, dynamicless would be best.” He slipped a hand in his jacket and pulled out a card, “this is my number. Call or text if you want clarification. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

With that, Malcolm stood, nodded at Liv, and started to make his escape. But before he could, his mother appeared from nowhere. “Is she okay?” Fingers clutched the tumbler, “is—”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “We talked. She’s fine. Now, what on earth did you get for dragging me to this?”_ Was it worth it?_

Jessica opened her mouth but before she could answer, Liv came in through the open doors, stood on tiptoe and kiss Malcolm’s cheek and whispered, “thank you.”

“Before you get ideas, Mother, that was a thank you. Now, what was it that the Grahams promised?” He watched her flounder for a minute, “never mind, it doesn’t matter. Goodbye.” Malcolm ducked out from Jessica’s hand as she went to put it on his shoulder. As he fished his phone out of his pocket, Malcolm was once again waylaid, this time by Gabriel Graham, the eldest son. _Fuck, c’mon. Just want to go home. _

“Hope you’re enjoy the party, Mr…” he trailed off, blue eyes raked over Malcolm’s body and he felt sick.

“Bright, I was actually just leaving.” He tried to slip around Gabriel, but a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder, stopping his movement.

“But it’s just started, surely this would be better than a boring night?”

“Mr. Graham, while I appreciate the sentiment, I really would like to be on my way.” Malcolm tried to step away again, but the other kept pace. “I was here as a favor to attend to something, which I’ve done. Now, I’m not going to overstay my welcome. Have a good night.”

Blue eyes narrowed, “I’m sure the invitation wasn’t just to come and attend to whatever it may be and leave. We’re not rude.”

Malcolm schooled his features, _only when it comes to an individual having a serial killer for a father. Want to move back to D. C. much harder for Mother to use me._ “I’m sure, but I’m leaving all the same. Thank you.”

Before the man could speak again, someone came to speak with Gabriel, which allowed Malcolm to finish making his escape. As soon as the cool night air hit him, some of the tension leaked from his body. _This is why I’m a social hermit, hate people._ Malcolm walked quickly, putting as much distance between the party and himself as possible. As he called for an Uber, a chill went up his spine. Slowly, so as not to make it obvious, Malcolm glanced around. For all that the FBI was bull shit, they did at least teach awareness. _Not that I’m not already._ Two minutes and his ride would be here.

While he was waiting, Malcolm’s phone went off. He glanced at the top of the screen, text from mother. Wonderful. He swiped it off the screen. _Deal with that when I don’t want to yell._ The sound of a car coming to a stop beside him made Malcolm look up; Uber was there and home was the next step. The window rolled down, a long dark haired male leaned over; “here to pick up a Malcolm?”

With a grateful nod, Malcolm opened the car door. “Great timing, much appreciated.” As he buckled in, Malcolm rattled off his address and loosened his tie. A soft grunt and the car fell silent. _20 minutes, shower, pills, and an attempt at sleep. At least the man doesn’t feel the need to talk, don’t know that I’d be able to. _

Sightlessly Malcolm watched the city roll by, he let his mind break from having any sort of deep thought, anything substantial. Finally the car rolled to a stop and Malcolm felt lighter, “Thank you,” he said sincerely, “this is for you.” He pushed the cash tip into the man’s hand and was out before anything could be said.

DeLorenzo watched to make sure the Whitly boy made it inside. He looked exhausted when he’d picked the kid up and distracted the whole way back to his apartment._ Not your concern, just needed to clone the phone._ One thing finished, just a couple more before the next visit.

**

For all that Martin had free time, except when his psychiatrist decided to try and shrink him, it did occasionally get redundant. As it was, he was currently sitting at his desk, with said person asking the usual questions. Martin turned it out. _After all,_ he mused, _my answers won't change._

Instead he let himself drift, thinking of Mal, of how soft the boy's hair would be as he ran his fingers through. Martin's eyes fluttered shut, fantasy taking form behind his eyelids. A fire burned, keeping a nude Malcolm warm and bathed the room if the soft glow. The soft pops from the logs and classical music added to the atmosphere of the room. Malcolm's arms were bound behind his back in an intricate tie with black rope that contrasted beautifully with his pale skin.

His boy's hair was damp, Martin having just bathed and shaved Malcolm. He knelt on a cushion, head laid against the inside of Martin's thigh, eyes closed. For once, his face serene as he listened and obeyed his Dom. A calm that Martin hadn't experienced in so long settled his heart. _This is so good, Mal right where he belongs, only with me. _

"My boy, you're so good for Daddy." Even though Malcolm didn't respond, the former doctor watched in pleasure as Mal's shoulders and body relaxed further. A soft sigh escaped Malcolm's lips as he nuzzled into Martin's thigh, trying to get closer. "You hid for so long, but not to worry, I'm here to take care of you."

Malcolm whined softly, Martin had gotten him deep into Subspace, enough so that the younger man's brain was rendered incapable of forming words. He gently directed his boy with tugs of his hair to arch his neck and expose his throat. The supple grey leather with a silver banded collar around Malcolm's neck had been what truly push his boy over the edge. Martin's heart swelled as Malcolm's eyes dilated when the cool buckle rested on warm skin.

"You fought so hard, but now nothing's going to bother you, m'boy, you're finally back where you belong." As they sat in silence, Martin traced the bones in Malcolm's face, much as he'd done when Malcolm was a newborn. His fingers trailed down Malcolm's slim throat before gently hooking a finger under the collar, partially to double check for Malcolm’s safety but mostly to draw him closer.

As their lips began to touch --

"Dr. Whitly,” and the whole fantasy crashed, “where were you just now?” The high pitched nasally voice pressed. The psychiatrist leaned forward, his pen poised over the notebook he carried. Obviously this wasn’t the first attempt at gaining Martin’s attention, but times with the lovely psychiatrist always bored him.

Martin scoffed before he could help himself, not that he really tried. “A place much more pleasant than this room and your questions.”

“What were you thinking about?”

A smirk curled his lips, “what answer would you like to hear?” He cocked his head, “that I was reliving my murders, that I was planning new ones, that I was going through a scene where I was finally able to Dom the most important person?”

The hand holding the pen tightened slightly. “Why not the truth?”

Martin grinned, “we both know you don’t actually want that. After all, it’s so boring! Why not tell me what you think I was doing?”

“Dr. Whitly, we’re here to try and understand--”

Martin cut the man off with an eye roll. “We both know you’re not here looking for a way to rehabilitate me or whatever _humanitarian_ bull you tell yourself. After all, getting a high profile serial killer to cooperate and then release a book…’ Martin trailed off. “But if you must, ask away. I’ll find other ways to distract myself.”

The doctor huffed, stood and stormed for the cell. Martin’s grin following the man. Then Mr. David walked in.

“Good morning! Can I get the TV now? I’d like to see if my daughter’s on her next case.”

While he did like to keep up to date on murders, mostly it was the ability to see his daughter, to know that she was succeeding in life. _Malcolm’s another aspect, half of my soul. My submissive boy, my match._

"Just breaking," Ainsley's voice filled his cell. After he'd stumbled across her a couple of years ago, Martin made sure to rush the psychiatrist out to spend one sided time with his daughter. "Four bodies were discovered in this Brooklyn Heights home. Sources say that they are all members of the same family."

Unable to help himself, Martin wriggled in his chair, _Detective Arroyo's going to call Mal…. Maybe it's time for phone privilege. _

"Might I have the phone please? There's a call I need to make." Martin waited impatiently, DeLorenzo had gotten Malcolm’s phone number and with some slight charm and bull shit, he’d be able to call his son. Anticipation grew as David wheeled the phone in. “Would you be so kind as to phone Malcolm, please?”

He forced his body to stay still even though Martin was anxious, who knew if Mal would answer his phone for an unknown number. Two rings was all it took, “hello?”

Martin grinned, “Malcolm, m’boy, it’s Dad.”

There was a brief pause, “what? How the hell do you have a phone?!”

A smile curled his lips, “oh, I don’t, I have ‘phone time’. A critical distinction. My calls had been exclusively reserved for my medical consultations, but I was able to pull a few strings to help the NYPD and their newest profiler.” Martin paused, “so I heard about this quadruple homicide. That’s quite the story.”

“How do you even know I’m here?” Malcolm’s stunned words make him smile, _I didn’t my beautiful sub, but …_ he let that thought trail off, since Malcolm was young, there’d always been a deep need to know where he was.

“Oh my! You’re actually on scene? That’s great, go-- go stand behind your sister! I bet I’ll be able to spot you!” _Oh, to see both of you together…. _

“No.”

“No, no, you’re busy, of course, I get it,” the words burned, after not seeing him for 10 years, the short visits woke an addiction, one that Malcolm wasn’t aware of. “Tell me about the bodies, every killer leaves their own unique signature. I want to hear all the details,” he sighed, “I really want to be able to see it in my head.”

“I don’t need your help.” _Come see me Mal, I’m rusty with your voice alone, I need to see you, learn the new tells, just hear your voice. _

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, I have so much to offer. We’re both obsessed with murder, like Father, like son.”

There was a shaky exhale, then suddenly the call ended. Martin itched to have David call Mal again, but he’d wait, give his boy a little more time at the scene before trying again. He kept the news playing, watching Ainsley. _That sigh, Mal, have you Dropped, are you still working to hold it all together? My strong determined boy can’t keep this up forever._ While he listened to the updates, Martin perused through files that he’d gotten for consults. He made notes in the margins, things that he’d have the admins forward onto the patients and their primaries.

Martin kept himself for calling for about 45 minutes, “David, please dial my son.”

“This is Bright, leave a message,” Martin sighed, of course he’s going to try and avoid my calls.

“Hello Malcolm, it’s your Dad. I heard more about the case, ooh, gruesome stuff.” He shifted around in his chair, “anyways, if you want to bounce some ideas around, give me a call.”

Time passed and frustration built with each voicemail._ Don’t do this Mal, don’t do this to me._

“You sounded tired on the phone. You know, maybe I can help with that. I don’t know, help with anything. I just want to help, damn it!” The deep well of calm that Martin had, something that was unusual for most Doms, at his raised voice, David stood, “well, hopefully we can speak tomorrow. Goodbye, my boy.”

For all his irritation with Malcolm dodging his calls, Martin felt that something was wrong, something that involved Malcolm. He was a man of science, but Martin had known since Malcolm was young that his instincts in regard to his son were always spot on. _Phone time’s over, but I’ll find something out. From the PI or Malcolm, himself. _

“Stand up, Dr. Whitly, you’ve got a visitor.” _Mal, please, I need to see you. _

Once the door buzzed, Martin smiled, more teeth than necessary for a smile, but oh, Mal was close again. More time to cement the boy’s dynamic one way or the other. “Malcolm, you got my messages! Come, let’s solve a murder.” Martin tried to soften his smile, but something in the way Malcolm held himself was off.

“There’s only one thing I want from you and that’s the truth.” Martin watched his son’s hand and as he did, he noticed a bandage wrap around his wrist. Before he could ask, Malcolm’s words were tumbling out, “the girl in the box.”

Martin started to swear mentally,_ damnit, of all the things…._ “Malcolm, she wasn’t real. But what’s on your wrist? You didn’t answer my calls.”

Malcolm completely ignored him, “after I found her, did you drug me to keep me from calling the police?"

“My boy, when was the last time you slept through the night?” _Deescalate the situation, get him calm. He can’t drop here, not while I’m tethered and he’s too far away. _

“You used chloroform, didn’t you? On a 10-year-old.”

“Malcolm Raziel, sit down.” Dominance rolled off Martin and enjoyment settled in the pit of his stomach as Malcolm’s mouth snapped closed and body moved without thought to the chair. “Good boy,” he murmured softly, “now take a breath for me.”

Malcolm felt tears well in his eyes,_ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He knows, no doubt now. He knows._ Suddenly Malcolm jumped from the chair, the walls closing in and there wasn’t enough air. _Out, need out, now._ His knees gave out, and Malcolm jarred to the ground. _Shut it down, pull back. Can’t get out. He can’t know. _

“My boy, I need you to breathe, it’s okay. You’re tired, something happened, you’re hurt. Minds do strange things when the body’s been injured. Breathe, that’s it m’boy. Just breathe.”

Malcolm wanted to yell, to tell his f—Dr. Whitly that _no, it’s not in my head, it happened! You drugged me,_ but all he could do was force himself to relax. _Mother can’t know, Gil doesn’t need to know I’m shattering._ Malcolm shut everything out and simply focused on his breathing. _In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four. There’s air, I’m s—I can breathe. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four._ As he forced his breathing under control, Malcolm ruthlessly shoved the urge to Drop back into a box and locked it away.

As though breaking through water, he heard Dr. Whitly encouraging him to keep breathing. Malcolm made his legs work, forcing the muscles to get to his feet. Slowly unclenching his fists, he glanced at Dr. Whitly, there was a soft smile, almost proud. “The girl in the box,” and the smile was gone.

“They make it look so easy in the movies, but it’s tricky stuff, you know. The wrong dose can easily kill you. Which is a long way of saying, no of course I didn’t drug you. Now, back to the matter at hand,” the older man gazed pointedly at Malcolm’s wrist, “what happened?”

“Nothing, they’re wrong, and you’re lying. Goodbye Dr. Whitly.”

Martin wanted to scream in frustration, “you’re uh, after a family annihilator?”_ Anything to keep you here longer Mal, I’m moving my plans up, you need me. _

“What?” Malcolm’s voice was sharp.

“Your suspect, this Liam character on the cover of The Daily News. Isn’t this your profile?” _I know it’s yours, Mal, so smart. _

“My profile is constantly evolving.” Malcolm’s tone was cold, reminiscent of Jessica’s.

“Got it, and your method is a mix of psychology and on the fly improvisation. I love it.” Martin edged closer. "I’ve always been fascinated with familicide. To love one’s family so much. Perverted,” Martin looked his fill of his boy, “yes. Narcissistic? Sure, but most definitely love.”

Malcolm reared back, “love? You didn’t kill us?”

Martin forced his face to remain blank,_ I could never hurt you or Ainsley, Mal. Never._ “Well, I’m not an annihilator. Love didn’t drive me to kill anyone. It drove me to have you.” _Not quite, but you and Ainsley will always be safe with me._ Martin was abruptly pulled out of his musings.

“I’m leaving and you’re wrong.” Martin felt his heart skip a beat,_ you can’t leave Malcolm, I need you. You need someone who can get you to peak submission, no one out there can, not like me. _

While he was lost in thoughts, Malcolm had apparently had a revelation. Martin’s heart filled, _oh, my boy, watching you work, seeing your mind put the puzzle together._ Malcolm looked so calm, relaxed as he went over the profile, figuring out what he’d missed. Then he was gone, left Martin alone with his thoughts.

Malcolm sighed; they’d saved one family, but it weighed heavily. _May have been a mass murderer, but still, his children. They’ll face something similar. _For all that he pretended to be, Malcolm had known his weakness were the children of murderers. For all that they’d been saved, they wouldn’t be spared the cruelty of those who would lump them in with their father. As his phone vibrated, Malcolm was pulled out of his thoughts. On his phone screen, there was a notification for a text from an unknown number. _Probably Liv._

Malcolm debated reading and responding immediately, after all the day’s events, exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. S_nake bites and sedatives do that. Fuck will people read charts?_ With a sigh, Malcolm unlocked his phone. The memories of this point in his life flooded his mind and he couldn’t leave her in the lurch until the next day.

Malcolm, I’m so sorry that I didn’t recognize you. I got your number from Liv, hope that’s ok? I wanted to apologize for what happened when we were younger. What we did was wrong and there’s no excuse for our behavior. This is Gabriel.

He stared at the screen in utter disbelief. _What the fuck?_ Before he could respond another message came in.

I was also serious about what I said the other evening, that you weren’t overstaying your welcome. Would you like to meet for supper, and we could talk?

Malcolm’s brain stalled out. _??????????_ He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket. Just as he was about to leave, Gil laid a soft hand on the nape of Malcolm’s neck. _God bless Gil Arroyo_, Malcolm thought, that hand stopped the wheels spinning and pulled him back to present. A glass of whiskey was put in his hand and drained without thought, _the good stuff_.

Much of their conversation and getting home was a blur. Antihistamine and alcohol weren’t a good mix, ever. Getting home with Dani’s help was slightly embarrassing but at the same time, Malcolm didn’t really care. _Nice to be numb sometimes._ He didn’t have messages on his phone demanding an answer, no serial killer Father playing games, no socialite mother attempting to use him. Then he was out.

**

Malcolm woke to his phone ringing and he swore_, why? Can’t I be left alone for a bit?_ Slowly he removed his restraints and padded over to the phone. _Two missed calls from Mother, a message from Ains, and two more texts._ He unlocked the phone and opened the two texts.

I completely understand if you would rather not meet up.

What I did was cruel. But I would like to get to know you again. So, supper?

**

Martin was impatient, DeLorenzo hadn’t been back but the man would have a valid reason, but not knowing what Malcolm was doing and how tortured the Dom and Father inside. _The anxiety attack, too far away but that won’t matter soon. I’ll lure him closer, save him before he Drops and can no longer hide. They’d take him off the team_, that thought pulled a snarl to his lips, Mal is their best asset, removing him would be a mistake.

“Dr. Whitly, stand up and face the wall, your lawyer’s here to see you.”

Excitement zinged through him, _finally, more information on Mal. _

As soon as Mr. David was out of the room and the door closed, he spun to stare at DeLorenzo. The briefcase in the man’s hand got Martin’s hopes up. _Maybe medical? I need to know._ He raised an eyebrow, silently urging the other to speak.

With a sigh, the other man set the briefcase down and opened it. A decently sized file was pulled out. “Medical,” he grunted, “for Bright, Malcolm. Up to date as of last night. Still working for Whitly portion.” He handed that over, then dug in for another file. “Cloned phone, these messages, calls, and voicemails are up to date as of 10 minutes ago.” There was a slight pause, “haven’t gotten feed yet due to Bright being home. Do have these,” DeLorenzo picked up an envelope and handed it over as well. “When I get the other two done, I’ll be back in touch.”

Barely aware of the other leaving, Martin dug into the medical file, starting with the most recent date. He skimmed the incident summary and took stock of treatment. Rage boiled low in his stomach, a snake, venomous. _Malcolm, what the hell happened? I knew there was something wrong that day. I knew you wouldn’t ignore me._ Before he could get too angry and lose focus, Martin moved the file, instead he pulled out the phone information and started to look through that.

Most calls were short, and the main ones were Ainsley, that police detective, and Jessica. It was the texts where things got interesting. As Martin read through the ones from a Liv, he was amazed at his boy, helping someone else avoid the fall out of her dynamic. Reading through the messages between his son and daughter… It felt like being with his children, working and listening in as they talked to each other. _Oh, to have seen them both grow…_ A few messages from Gil – the police officer, _not his Father, I am. You don’t need to take care of him, I will._ Irritation at this usurper had built over the years, Mal’s mine, no one else will ever have you m’boy.

The last woke a primal rage, something that never happened with either his victims or with Jessica at any point in their marriage. _How dare that boy that had attacked and hurt Mal think that he could ever… He’s_ mine_! Does no one understand?! _

Before he could get too far down that rabbit hole, he shoved his headphones on and tried to get lost in the rhythms, when he glanced down, there was a handwritten response with time noted.

When were you thinking?

Once more, rage boiled over, _Mal, don’t you dare. He’s after you for one thing. Only what I should have the privilege of taking care of._ Martin could still remember seeing Mal a few days after Gabriel had beaten up Malcolm, the scar just under Malcolm’s nose was a lasting reminder. _When I get out, I’ll take care of this one._ Martin grabbed the files and slipped them in the false bottom of a drawer to ensure that no one would find the information or pictures.

Shortly after, Martin felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, there were eyes on him. Left from the time growing up with a Father like his… As well as to keep himself aware while removing bodies from his possession so as not to get caught. He glanced behind his shoulder,_ Mal! _

“How long have you been here?” _Hands are uncuffed, could touch him… _

“The girl in the box—”

Martin cut him off. “No. Not this. Tell me about the snake bite that you got on the case? Why aren’t you resting?”

Malcolm stopped and blinked. Martin felt a thrill at knocking Mal off his stride. “W--what do you know about that?” As though shaking himself, “not the point, Dr. Whitly,” Malcolm said, he tried to get the conversation back on track.

“Malcolm,” Martin’s tone was put upon, “I’m your father, everything—”

Malcolm tried to cut his fath—Dr. Whitly off. “This has nothing to do with the case. The girl in the box – she was real. You have—”

“Malcolm Raziel Whitly, sit down.” All parts of Martin Whitly came together, every instinct demanded that Mal sit, just long enough to ensure that his Sub wasn’t in danger. He watched as Malcolm’s knees buckled, as his boy tried so hard to fight. _Soon, my darling boy, soon._ “I said, sit.” Martin took in Mal’s body language and then stared into those beautiful blue-grey eyes. Pupils dilated, hands trembled, spine stiff, and a subtle swallow. He watched the jerky movements as Malcolm sat.

“Now, tell me, what happened.” Though phrased as a question, Malcolm knew it wasn’t but stubbornly bit down on his lip refusing to let Dr. Whitly know anything.

“Mal, tell me what happened, now.” The dominance in his tone of voice, stance firm. “I won’t ask again.”

Without his permission, Malcolm started to talk. He tried to force himself to be quiet, but he couldn’t stop his words. He couldn’t, but he refused to look at Martin. Refused to see what effect his words on the older man. As soon as the story was out, Malcolm kept his head down, stood, and left. Not heeding his name called after him. _No doubt now, he knows. I—Coming back … It’s…_ Malcolm’s thoughts were a jumble. _He knows, he knows, but he can’t find out_ that _secret_. The desire to scream started to build, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow it.

An urge that Malcolm hadn’t felt in years burned, but he wasn’t, wouldn’t allow it._ Drop when I make it home. No one there, just me. Phone will be off. You made me submit, Father, something I haven’t done in years. Why, why can’t you let me be angry?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I wanted to let you guys know I've updated the tags. Malcolm self harms in this chapter. I want to let y'all know before you start. At the absolute last set of asterisks, you can skip that if it's triggering for you. I've had my own battle with cutting but please don't read if it'll cause you pain. I don't want that. 
> 
> Also, really sorry for the huge delay. Holidays, illness, and working a lot of over time since the beginning of the year aren't conducive to writing. So thanks so much for your patience. I figured I could give you this giant chapter. I almost split it, but I don't like leaving cliffhangers unless it's a chapter I know I'll get up quickly. If you've stayed through the long ramble, thanks! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Malcolm was numb, had been from the moment that he’d stepped outside Claremont. _It’s out, he knows. _Those words kept slamming against the insides of his mind. All outside stimuli was muted, like he’d been shoved underwater. Emotional shut down, but he still had logic. _Flag cab. Get home. Lock door. Turn off phone. Drop. Flag cab. Get home. Lock door. Turn off phone. Drop. _Simple to the point steps. Now to do them. 

Getting home was a fog. Malcolm felt as though he lost time between leaving Claremont and stumbling into his loft. The soft sounds from Sunshine filled his head as he tried to get his legs to move up the stairs. Each step was a trial. _Panic? Shock? Hmm, not sure. He knows. _He _knows. _A pit formed in Malcolm’s stomach, so much, there was so much Dr. Whitly could do. None of it good. 

The calm emptiness snapped and Malcolm fell to his knees, emotions overwhelmed his ability to process. _Dropping. Text Gil, turn off phone, cuffs and settle. _His hands shook more than normal while typing out a message to Gil, mostly for placation purposes and then the phone was off. Once that was done, Malcolm forced himself up and towards his bedroom. Prying open his closet door, he unlocked the case that he’d hidden back towards the left. Through trial and error, Malcolm discovered what eased Drops, weighted objects, scents, and restraints. Specific scents, just Gil and Jackie, though hers still hurt to smell, _three scents, _his mind sneered, but Malcolm ignored it. Martin’s scent was no longer soothing like it was as a child. _Liar._

Some time ago, he’d purchased a weighted blanket, a Hail Mary to help with Drops, anything, really. It was partially successful, but Harvard had been rough and then the FBI… Out of desperation of needing Gil and Jackie, Malcolm bought a bottle of cologne Gil wore. It was a startling comfort. Shortly after, he’d purchased Jackie’s perfume. Shame burned in the pit of his stomach, wanting another father, one who-- _nope, not going there._ Three spritzes and Malcolm laid down on his side and buried his nose in the fabric. 

Malcolm’s hands fumbled with the leather cuffs, his trembling made it hard to buckle, but he needed the restraints. His body was still shaking, adrenaline from seeing Dr. Whitly, of him knowing Malcolm’s true dynamic, the fear of further discovery, and the Drop that was long overdue. Malcolm gritted his teeth, _shut up, just stop. Please, just need an easy drop and recovery. _Forcing his eyes closed, he curled in on himself. The weight and Gil’s scent slowly calming his slamming heart but fear still burned. 

With each breath, Malcolm felt his muscles slowly release tension, leaving only aching soreness behind. After relaxing his muscles, Malcolm curled up further and let his mind go blank.

**

The sun had long since set and the only illumination in the apartment was from streetlights when his body protested being in the same position for too long. Body shaking with the effort, Malcolm unlatched the cuffs and sat up. With some effort, he pulled the blanket with him. Fear was still there, but with the Drop finished, Malcolm felt more even footed. _Fuck, this’ll be fun,_ he mused, eyes fixed blankly on the wall. _It’s all going on the back burner_. 

Allowing himself a few more minutes of wallowing, Malcolm slipped from his bed and started working through yoga stances. With each passing minute and stance, Malcolm worked his way back to his center. As a joke, he’d tried yoga but found it helped relieve some of the anxiety. As he headed toward the bathroom for a shower, something stopped him cold. _How did he know about the snake? That wasn’t anywhere… news didn’t know and Ains didn’t report it._

Dread pooled in his stomach and made Malcolm nauseous, _he’s got someone watching-- Tell Gil. No, no, no. Gil finds out, I’ll be under lock and key. _All the hard won calm evaporated in an instant. An itch that hadn’t reared its head in years rushed Malcolm, not even when he’d been fired from the FBI but now… _Need to go for a run, not falling down that rabbit hole, not again. How much does he know? Change routine, locks. _A sharp exhale, Malcolm forced his chaotic thoughts into order, getting overwhelmed wouldn’t help anything. 

He went room by room and looked for cameras. A benefit of the FBI was having a general idea of where those could be hidden. Bugs were the next check. _Martin knows too much already, he doesn’t get _anything _more. _Hours passed and Malcolm didn’t find anything. The sun was just beginning to rise when he ended the search, satisfied that nothing had been planted yet. _Time to keep it that way. _With that, Malcolm made his plans for the day. He’d change the locks himself. _Won’t chance that someone’s paid enough for a copy of the keys._

After a quick shower, Malcolm dressed in plain dark clothes and a coat and headed to find a new lock. Before leaving the loft, he setup a few small traps to let him know if someone did get into his place. At that thought, rage replaced the fear. _How dare you, didn’t I lose enough to you?! Friends, a Mother who gave a shit, being normal. No more._ He pursed his lips to keep from sneering. He left the phone sitting on the island, no chance to allow someone to track him easily. 

Weak sunlight and the sounds of morning traffic greeted him as he stepped outside. He hailed the first cab possible and rambled off an address. Thus began his plan of being a deliberate pain in someone’s ass. About a quarter of an hour later, he stepped out of the cab and walked a block before hailing another cab to a subway station. Cash -- a benefit of being wealthy-- was all he would use for the coming days. After all, Dr. Whitly liked to know everything, even before everything went to hell. _I may be his son, but I’m just as petty and ruthless as Mother._ As he moved through the throng of people, Malcolm subtly glanced behind him, looking for his tail. No one stood out, but that wasn’t a surprise. After all, anyone who did this for a living had to be good. It would be a long game, looking for familiar faces that followed from place to place.

Throughout the ride, Malcolm casually eyed those around him. Most of the people around him were normal 9 to 5ers going about their lives. Several junkies who were riding the lines but no one that was trying especially hard to hide. After reaching his stop, Malcolm flagged one more taxi to get to the hardware store. 

He walked purposefully towards the lock aisle, as little time possible spent here before returning to the loft was important. Looking at his options, Malcolm felt his hand start to tremble and jammed it into his coat pocket. _Choices. Need something strong. _As he stared at the wall of options a sales associate walked over. 

“Hey, is there something I can help you find?”

By the skin of his teeth Malcolm was able to pull a charming smile on and turn towards the girl. Her hair, in a high ponytail, swished softly as she came to a stop. “I’m looking to replace my locks. I need something that’s pick, drilling, and sawing resistant. It would be nice if it were resistant to bumping, too.”

She paused for a moment before nodding, “this way. I think there’s something that would work. It’s called a Kwikset Cameron entry knob. It’s dual thing. It has a deadbolt and lock on the door handle. You can also rekey so if you need to change the locks, you don’t have to go out and buy a completely new thing. There’s also a bump guard.”

_Interesting,_ he mused. “Thanks. Are there any others you’d recommend?” Malcolm watched as her head tilted slightly.

“I would say the Medeco, but we don’t have any in stock.” She glanced at him for a long moment, “also, getting the keys changed would be a thing a locksmith would need to do.” 

Malcolm nodded, “Kwikset it is.” 

She grabbed a package and held it out towards him, the name and model number facing Malcolm. Her lips were pulled into a tight frown, eyebrows closer together, body tense. “Be safe.” 

Malcolm didn’t ask as she turned and walked away, stats running through his mind. Too long in law enforcement and the knowledge that the consequences were far reaching was enough. Check out and the return trip followed the pattern of his trip there. Still no one stood out nor had there been any similar faces.

** 

By the time he finally made it back to the loft, Malcolm could feel the exhaustion start to weigh him down more heavily than usual but forced it aside. _Install the lock. Then should probably turn on the phone._ _Cutting close until the time Gil would come and check. Have to finish before then, otherwise he’ll know. Or maybe if he is over before it's done, blame Mother?_

Just as Malcolm finished up changing out the deadbolt and knob, the familiar rumble of Gil's car reached his ears. After everything, Gil and Jackie were the best thing to come out of Martin being arrested. _They gave a damn, one of the only reasons I didn't end everything. _He pulled himself up and waited for Gil to make it to the door.

"What are you up to, kid?" He rumbled, hand slowly moving to cup the back of Malcolm's neck. The movement deliberate and gentle.

"Just changing security, Gil." He leaned into the calloused hand, feeling momentarily safe. "After all Mother had a key to the old lock. Don't really want her coming in while I'm working." _Mostly so she can't possibly witness a Drop. Not to mention my tail._

Dark eyes flicked across his face, concern and care etched in the crow's feet around Gil's eyes. "I worry about you. Are you sure everything is ok?" At Malcolm's nod, Gil gently squeezed his neck and dropped his hand. 

He huffed softly, "come up for a drink? Least I can do for you driving over."

Gil just smiled, "can't say no to the bourbon you have." He inclined his head and Malcolm grabbed the tools and led the way in. Sunshine trilled when she saw them walk in and fluttered around the cage. Malcolm smiled a little and turned towards his wet bar, Gil close behind. 

“You sure you're ok, city boy? You’ve seen The Surgeon more in the last couple weeks than you have in the last 10 years then you went radio silent.”

Malcolm tried to hide his tells, after all Gil has been there for 20 years and learned them. _If he didn’t care he wouldn’t have learned_, he thought and opted for a small smile. “Feeling like my usual self, Gil.” Dark eyes crinkled and a soft laugh made Malcolm smile a little wider. 

“Kid,” Gil grumbled playfully, “you forget I know your normal, this seems a little rougher than your usual.” 

Malcolm dropped his head a little, _for God’s sake why couldn’t I have been Gil’s kid? Why did I have to be me?! _“If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t go back, Gil. The Surgeon has taken enough, I won’t let him get more.” _Make the lie as close as possible to the truth. He doesn’t need to know that Martin’s got someone following my movements. _“Besides, he needs me more than I’ll ever need him.” _LIAR, _his mind snapped, _you _need _him just as much. Wouldn’t be able to submit to any other--_ Malcolm shut that train of thought down. Not the time or place to have this mental argument. 

Gil leaned back, legs crossed with the tumbler resting between his hand and knee. “If you’re sure, then we’ll toast to you finally joining the NYPD,” he snarked at Malcolm, a smile curling his lips, “should listen to me City Boy, age leads to wisdom.” Before he took a sip, he paused, “in all reality, I do understand why you went to the FBI. I’m proud of you, Kid.”

Malcolm almost preened under Gil’s praise. The price of having an alcoholic socialite Mother and how everything turned out with Martin, any positive words came from Jackie and Gil only. Though he wouldn’t tell Gil because her loss still hurt them both and definitely not his Mother who already hated the couple even though she couldn’t be assed to comfort or support him, Jackie was his Mom. 

The pair let a gentle silence settle between them, both simply taking comfort in not being alone. Malcolm relaxed, the heat from the late afternoon sun, the finger of bourbon warming his insides, Gil’s even breaths, and Sunshine’s soft singing started to lull him into a doze. Eyelids fluttered closed and for once, Malcolm let his guard down. _Gil’s here, he’ll keep watch, won’t get mad at me._ She_ always got mad._

Malcolm woke slowly as he felt a calloused hand cup the back of his neck and the other arm slip around his torso. He blinked blearily, mind still heavy with sleep, it was dark, or as dark as New York ever got. “Shh, kid, you’re safe. Just going to get you comfortable.” The smell of Gil’s cologne kept Malcolm still as he was moved to his bed. In the haze of sleep, he was aware of Gil taking his shoes off and of a blanket laid over him.

**

Malcolm woke slowly to the sound of vegetables being chopped. There was soft music playing in the background, Gil hummed along with it. _I know that smell,_ a sense of peace settled him, _Jackie’s chicken soup. _Malcolm stretched out and slid out from under the blanket. Gil looked up at the quiet footsteps and spoke, “Glad you got a couple hours, Bright. Figured we could both do with a light dinner.” 

Malcolm pretended not to notice Gil swallow and continue cooking the soup, “thanks, but you don’t have to, you know?” He sat down across from Gil and let the calm wash over him. With the Drop, the realization that Dr. Whitly was having him followed, and the insanity with Mother, Malcolm enjoyed the simplicity of spending time with his mentor. 

He huffed a laugh, “if you think I’m going to let you skip out on me, you’re not as smart as you think you are.” Silence descended while Gil finished up the soup and left it to simmer for the noodles to soften. “Oh, I’d also like for you to turn your phone back on and answer your Mother. I’ve been fielding her calls and text for the last two hours. I think we may have a visitor if you don’t.”

A shudder ran down his spine, _last thing I need or want is her stopping by. Especially since she’ll try to pull shit with Gil._ Malcolm picked up his phone and powered it up, and it immediately lost its mind and vibrated for a few minutes. Gill shook his head with a smile while Malcolm made a face at the phone. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

“Of course not, Kid.” The sparkle in his eye said otherwise, but the gentle teasing always made things feel more bearable. “After all we know that you’re the only capable of stopping the storm known as Jessica Whitly.”

When the phone finally stopped with notifications, Malcolm glanced at the screen and had to quickly hide the shocked expression at how many voicemails he had. _Shit, shit, shit. Most of those are Claremont. Fuck. _He swiped the notification away, instead he tapped on the Messaging app. _They act as though I’ve never done this before._

He didn’t bother to read the message that Jessica had sent, just typed out a quick message that he’d been trying to sleep and that’s why he hadn’t answered any calls or texts. He copied that message and sent it to Ainsley who’d sent several texts, _probably on behalf of our Mother_. Once that was done, he opened Gil’s two texts and then looked back at his messages. Before he could stop himself, he groaned which made Gil glance his way. 

“Should I be worried?” 

He grimaced, “maybe? Or you’ll want to knock me over the head? I had to attend a function with Mother a bit ago. You, uh, remember the Graham boys?”

He watched as Gil’s eyes tightened and lips pursed, _well that tells me everything._ He nodded and gestured for Malcolm to continue, “well, I didn’t know where we were going, so that’s not my fault. But apparently their daughter who’s about Ainsley’s age was in need of some help with her Dynamic. I took care of that and left, or tried to?” Malcolm shrugged slightly, “as I was leaving uh, I uh, got stopped by Gabriel.”

The rage that filled Gil’s eyes at _that_ name was palpable in the room, clearly the older man hadn’t forgotten the ah, incident. “And?” he asked, sounding every bit the enraged parent. 

“He… He got my number from Liv, I only meant for her to have it in case she had questions. He texted asking if we could meet for dinner. And apologized?” As he watched Gil’s face morph, he continued, “I don’t believe that he means it or that he’s actually wanting to mending fences. Mostly try and get in my pants, but I agreed to see him?”

Malcolm felt the silent judgement coming off Gil, when he looked at the ceiling and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bright.”

“I just want to hear why or what justification he has for that day. I don’t believe a word he says or anything of the like, I just want to--” he trailed off, Gil’s eyebrows steadily climbing towards his hair. “It’s going to be quick, I don’t actually intend to eat or drink.”

“Malcolm,” the use of his first name startled him, Gil’s tone unusually even, “we don’t make friends with people that beat the holy hell out of you and left a scar. I don’t care if he apologized. I don’t care if your only motivation is to humiliate him. You don’t spend time with people like that.”

Malcolm gaped at him, not expecting the calmness being displayed, “Gil, you weren’t there, you didn’t see how he looked at me. I could--” 

Gil raised his hand, “soup’s done, but I’m stating this as someone that cares about you. You don’t need to see or talk to him again. You’ve accepted his apology, there’s nothing you have to do. If he looked at you in that manner, you definitely don’t need to spend time with him.”

There was quiet for a moment while Gil filled two bowls, Malcolm’s mostly broth with some vegetables and chicken. Before Malcolm could speak, Gil shook his head. “I’ve said my piece, but you’re an adult and you’re going to do whatever it is that you want. I just want you safe.”

Malcolm went for levity, “can you inform my mother and sister of that? They seem to believe that they have say in my chasing murderers.” The smile he got in return lightened the air in the room. “I will take into consideration what you have to say, though.”

They finished eating in silence, then cleaned and put away dishes. With a final hug and gentle squeeze of his neck, Gil left with a copy of the new key. The sleep that he managed to get and time spent with Gil was soothing especially after the events of the previous day. His phone, which had miraculously stayed silent through dinner went off again. Malcolm heaved a sigh and unlocked the phone. _Hm, Mother, what lovely timing._

_You might text or call me before not answering your phone for 24 hours._

He shook his head, nonplused and sent back, _not the first time I’ve done this. I told Gil, who I figured you’d call as soon as I wasn’t answering. Thinking he had me on a case._

He waited for her response for a minute, but went to Ainsley’s messages, which were exactly what he thought, to make the annoying number go away next to her name. There were a few from Gabriel, but those could wait. Just two from Gil, acknowledging what he’d sent. Then there were a couple from Liv, those couldn’t wait. 

_I’m so sorry again about my brother getting your number. I was wondering if we could meet and talk? I just want to have this figured out. _

_Were you this anxious when trying to get around registering?_

_Malcolm, are you ok?_

These read as genuine messages, but he’d always taken them with a grain of salt, writing versus actual speaking lead to a lot of conflicting information. Malcolm thought for a moment and then sent her, _I’m fine, hadn’t slept in awhile. So I go quiet like that sometimes. If you’d like, we can meet at my place so that no one can overhear anything. _

Now it was down to the two things Bright didn’t really want to deal with. _Claremont or Gabriel? Dr. Whitly or a predator? Oh wait, they both are. Can listen to a message? _He wrestled with that for a moment before making the choice to read Gabriel’s messages. _Like a Band-Aid. _

The first three were all the same. Asking when they could meet. Then it changed. _I asked Liv, she says she texted you, but you didn’t respond. You ok?_

_Are you on a case?_

_Are you ignoring me?_

Bright started profiling each of the messages, frequency, syntax, word choice. _Maybe Gil’s right. Wouldn’t be the first time._ He tapped his finger on the back of the phone, _Gabriel or Dr. Whitly… Let’s deal with him, short and to the point message. _

_I apologize. My phone was off so that I could get some sleep. Would you be able to meet at Gryllete around 9:30 tomorrow morning?_

With that taken care of, Malcolm dreaded what came next. Ever since Martin had gotten ahold of his number, though he ignored the calls, some part of him that Bright refused to acknowledge craved the voice mails. Most of them were along the same lines, Martin checking in to make sure that Malcolm was ok, though with each voicemail, he heard the undercurrent of slight panic in the man’s voice. 

The last one had Malcolm on edge. _Too much, it’s too much. Has to stop._

“M’boy, it’s Dad. I know you’re scared, but don’t be. I could _never_ hurt you. You won’t believe me, but you’re important to me, I could never use anything against you. I just want to protect you, make sure you’re healthy. You’re a good boy, my good boy. So brilliant,” Martin paused, “it doesn’t seem like it now, but everything will be okay, I’ll make sure of it. Rest, Mal.” 

The praise and gentle command sent a shiver down Bright’s spine, not an unpleasant one either. He’d had sex but made sure that it was always with the Dynamicless, he refused to put another Sub into a position where needs weren’t met, or they had a Drop. _Sure as fuck won’t play with a Dom. Asking for trouble._ Malcolm tried to delete the last message, but he couldn’t. Shame built like a fire in his gut as he played the message again, again, again. 

His hands shook violently as he forced himself to put the phone face down. Malcolm worked through his nightly routine. Yoga, stretching, shower and then his meds. As he was running a towel through his hair, the phone vibrated and went silent. _One of three…_ A small part of his mind prayed that it was Liv, but he has about as much luck as a broken mirror. _If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck._ He opened his phone and saw that it was indeed Gabriel responding.

_Great, I’ll be there. Sorry that you’re having trouble sleeping._

Malcolm rolled his eyes heavenward, he was already regretting this and he hadn’t even gotten to the restaurant yet. _Just this meeting and we’ll probably never talk again. Must change phone number… Again._

**

The morning came fast than Malcolm had memory of it coming before. Going through his closet, he look for the most intimidating suit and tie after taking his usual cocktail of medicines and his workout routine. _No longer that little boy, he can’t hurt or scare me. I’ve faced monsters. _Before leaving the loft, Bright made sure that the location function on his phone was off, to make it harder for whoever was tracking him. _Gabriel, Martin, a PI—Gil was right, I should have stayed away._

The ride there was uneventful, while it was harder to keep an eye out for anyone out of place, taking the cab also made it harder on whoever was following Bright. _Lord bless the yellow cabs and the anonymity._ The meeting with Gabriel had his anxiety rising, Malcolm forced himself to use box breathing that Gabrielle had taught him early in their appointments. Though only recommended for 4 minutes or so, Malcolm kept it up until he was inside the restaurant. _Early, but this way I can sit so he can’t come up behind me._

Bright arranged himself to seem at ease and pulled out his phone. He’d already typed out a message to Gil in case things went sideways and he needed an out, just hitting send and Gil would take care of him. Pretending to focus on his phone, Malcolm covertly scanned the patrons, habit from law enforcement and for all the times as a child he’d been the butt of some cruel prank.

About ten minutes after Malcolm was seated, he caught a glimpse of Gabriel headed his way. As the other sat, Malcolm re-positioned. Legs uncrossed, he was ready for a quick get away if anything went wrong. There was silence while Malcolm watched the other settle in, it almost felt like a standoff, but the only weapons here were words. Things that Malcolm had taught himself to use and incapacitate people.

“I’m surprised you agreed to meet with me. You look well, Malcolm.”

Doing his absolute best not to scoff, Malcolm shrugged, “I’m curious what you’re wanting or looking for out of this meeting.”

“Maybe we could reconnect? What my brothers and I did was wrong.” There was a pause in the conversation as the waitress came over.

“Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“I’ll just take some coffee, thanks,” Malcolm looked at Gabriel, “you?”

He looked nonplussed at Malcolm before he glanced at the lady, “can I get a coffee and a blueberry muffin?”

With a nod, she left. There was a slight pause in the conversation as Bright just raised an eyebrow and waited for the other to speak.

Gabriel’s Adam’s apple bobbed, “it was a surprise to see you the other night and, well Liv’s more herself again. We, I… you’re different.”

It took all of Malcolm’s control not to smile nastily or smirk. “I’m glad that Liv’s doing better. After all, dynamics are hard sometimes.” He shifted again, “but what do you mean by reconnect? Going off your actions the other night, it would be safe to say you only want in my pants.”

A flush worked its way down his neck and up his ears, “well, I—would you be opposed?”

Before he could stop himself, Bright barked out a laugh, “you’re forward, I’ll give you that. But do you really think after everything that I’m going to sleep with you? I have money, I’ve made a name for myself with the degree that I earned, and I’m not that desperate little 10 year old anymore. You do realize that my fancy psychology degree isn’t just helping people with dynamics, right?”

The poleaxed look on the other’s face almost made Bright laugh again, but he continued. “I have a Master’s in psychology with a focus on criminal profiling. I don’t always profile criminals; I can do people who aren’t. You perceive me as weak and unable to fight back, that’s not the case. Before you realized or Liv told you who I was, you thought I was lower than you, that whatever you had to say would amaze me.”

Just as Gabriel was about to speak, the waitress came back with their drinks and the muffin. While Malcolm waited for the other’s rebuttal, he fixed his coffee with cream and sugar before looking back up and gesturing for Gabriel to speak.

Malcolm took pleasure in watching the other’s mouth open and close a few times, then he managed to speak, “I’m sorry that I made you feel uncomfortable at the party. You exuded a gracefulness and seemed interesting.”

“I accept that apology. Now, really tell me why you took my number from Liv? I don’t suggest lying, I can see those tells, too.”

Almost as though in a confessional, the words came pouring out, “mom mentioned that Mrs. Whitly would be there and that someone would be with her to help Liv, I’m guessing she didn’t want to let onto who you were. After all, what we did was horrid. But I saw Liv come in and kiss your cheek while you spoke with your Mother and then headed my way. I was curious, hadn’t seen you since we were 10, I feel incredibly stupid because your eyes are unique, and I’ve never seen that shade of blue grey outside of you. But I was worried that you were going to hurt or use Liv since she was unsure of her dynamic. I talked and then she told me and well, I’m intrigued?”

Malcolm made himself take a drink before snapping out the first thing that came to mind, _but I want to._ With one hand under the table he unlocked his phone and tapped send. _Fuck this whole thing. Gil, please save me._ With that done, Malcolm looked back at Gabriel. “I thank you for your honesty, but please hear me when I say this, I don’t care if I suddenly intrigue you after 20 years. After growing up with finding out what Martin Whilty was and everything that came with being the biological son and how everyone changed towards my family and me, I have nothing to do with those people I knew. Liv was around Ainsley’s age, she knew nothing. That’s why I’m helping her.”

Moments before Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, Malcolm’s phone rang. _Gil, you’re the most wonderful human in the world. _

“Bright.”

He nodded along with what Gil was saying, though it had absolutely nothing to do with the case, mostly telling him that he’s an idiot and why did he even bother with the whole thing? Malcolm had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, of all the shit in his life, Gil was one the best things to come out of it.

“Go home, kid.” And the phone call ended.

“Thanks, Gil, I’ll be at the scene soon. If you’ll excuse me,” Bright said, laying down enough cash to cover both of their orders and a sizable tip, “my team just called. Goodbye.” Finality, Bright hoped that Gabriel caught it. He stood and was out of the restaurant before the other spoke. _Small mercies._

The trip home was boring but as the car pulled up, his Mother got out of the family car and smiled at him. If her socialite smile could even be considered pleasant, that was beyond him.

“Malcolm,” she greeted as he started unlocking the door, too close behind for him to close the door on her, “I heard that you had breakfast with Gabriel!”

Bright bit his tongue, still irritated and hurt over the whole thing, but honestly, she cared more for appearance than anything, especially after the arrest. “Good morning, Mother.”

“So, what did you talk about? Have you put bygones aside? He would be such a wonderful friend.”

Before he could censor himself, Bright snorted, “sure, that’s exactly what we did. I mean, it’s not like he and his brothers beat the hell out of me or anything or that he was intrigued and wanted a quick fuck.”

He heard her sputtering behind him as he started the French Press, though it may end up spiked with something if she didn’t leave. After all, she never approved of his friends, why start now? Grateful that he had his back to her, Malcolm smiled. _Gil, Dani, Edrisa, they’re my friends, I’ll get JT, too._

“Malcolm Raziel!”

“Mother.”

She huffed angrily at his back, “Gabriel’s grown up, he wouldn’t just say he wants to sleep with you. After you left and he came to speak with me, he asked about you and I mentioned that you were back in town and had seen Liv, he was very interested in putting the past behind and building a friendship.”

Unable to stop himself, Malcolm turned towards Jessica, with a raised eyebrow he snapped, “because you were there at breakfast, you must obviously know. You also must have been there as I was attempting to leave that party that you lied about, where he undressed me with his eyes. You also must have told Liv to give him my number. Mother, you know what I do for a living, that I’m a profiler, so reading people is easy. I also made him be honest, so yes. I do in fact know that he’s only interested in my ass. If you would kindly leave, I’m setting up for another visitor.”

Her face looked as though she’d taken a large bite of a lemon. Lips pursed; eyes narrowed. He shrugged in her general direction as he turned back to his coffee. The gracious snarl and stomping of heels were music to hear as Jessica left.

**

Martin swore to himself as he watched Mal all but sprint from his cell. _Too much, too soon. Must slow down._ As he looked down the empty hall, he noticed Mr. David at the phone. Body language gave away that whoever he was speaking with, it was an attempt to be covert. _Walls have ears, _he told himself. _No more until I can control everything. Can’t have anyone determine his true dynamic. Jessica would be a problem._ After Mr. David finished his call, Martin settled back at his desk with a file, _no more orders. No potential exposure of who and what Mal truly is. Doesn’t mean that phone calls have to stop,_ he mused. _May have to be creative, after all he won’t answer for me._

The attempt to distract himself with a patient was useless, he hadn’t had much chance to get through Malcolm’s medical file beyond seeing the snake bite. _Shouldn’t be up and about after that, especially chasing an annihilator._ Martin leaned forward over the file, going back to the beginning. Most of the college years had normal illnesses and the like, up until about 2009, then Martin dug into the injuries that the FBI had wrought on his boy. As he read through the file, he came across several gunshot wounds, cuts, and the like. Some of the locations of the injuries pushed feelings of rage and fear through him. _My boy, when I have you, this will never happen. We may play rough, but I won’t let anything get deadly. Nothing permanent either. Just my collar around your throat. _

Time passed slowly, as each minute ticked by Martin wanted to call Mal, make sure that he’d gotten back to his loft safely, that if he Dropped, he’d be ok. But phone time had ended and other than writing a letter which would tip his boy off about the tail, Martin paced. 

While Martin paced, he thought about writing again. _Don’t have to send the letters. Can pour everything into them. When I get out and Mal’s only mine, I’ll read them to him. Bound and gagged, he’ll disagree if I don’t. _He ached to trace his fingers along his boy’s skin, rest his palm around his throat-- feel Mal’s heartbeat pound under his hand -- and trace along the fine boned face. 

There’s more he plans to do, but that will require finesse. _Need to draw him in slowly, keep my boy safe from everything, even himself._ Martin thought back to the texts that DeLorenzo had given him. Rage once again erupted violently inside his gut, he wanted to snarl, yell. But Mr. David was still in his cell. That the Graham boy thought his paltry apology would spare him, there were several people on Martin’s list, but Gabriel Graham was situated at the top. His footsteps fell quicker, the tether holding him made his small area harder to move in. Before Mr. David could see his expression, Martin jerked around towards the windows, letting the late afternoon sun fall in his face. _One day, one day I’ll have the freedom to move._

Minutes passed before Martin felt stable enough to turn back towards his desk. _Letters_, he thought firmly, that he could control. Though he had limited supplies, he sifted through his desk for the nicest paper and smoothest writing pen that would flow along with all the inner workings of the mind. Words flew, his hand moving as though possessed. The deep burning need for Malcolm to know, to understand. 

** 

Martin was so lost in the letters that time passed without notice. “Dr. Whitly,” Mr. David said, startling Martin that his hand jerked across the page, tearing through it, “light’s out.” The urge to snap at the other man almost overpowered the part of him that knew to play nice, _losing privileges is so easy here_. Instead, he balled the letter up and put it in his desk. 

_Have to rewrite that one. What happened to manners? Knocking? _Martin smiled benignly burying the desire to stab. _Don’t want solitary, not with Mal back._ “Thank you, Mr. David. Have a good night.” 

The man nodded, handed off the keys to the night guard, closed the door and Martin was alone in the semi-dark with his thoughts. With the distraction of the letters removed for the next several hours, Martin swallowed roughly as he remembered the fear in Malcolm’s eyes. The realization that his father knew one of his most guarded secrets would likely have been the final nail in the coffin for a Drop, notwithstanding the other situations that he’d had in the last few weeks.

_Oh, my boy, if you only knew how I _want_ you. Not as a Father should, but as a Dom, a man. We’d fit, I know that. The only good that I’ve had in the last 20 years, even if you did disappear for a decade. Knew you’d come home, come to me._

With that lovely thought, Martin closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

** 

Martin's impatience reached new heights as he waited for phone time to officially start. The night had passed in a dreamy haze of different scenes with Mal. From kink to simply being curled together. _It’s Wednesday, two more days, Mr. David will be off, and I can terrify the weekend guards. _Mr. David had been with him since the beginning, knew him, but wasn’t intimidated by Martin’s antics and for a compromise, the hospital had the man working Monday through Friday but weekends off since trying to find guards to spend more than a shift a day with him was next to impossible. _Not as much fun, but at least during those days, security is a bit more relaxed. Afraid that I’ll kill or maim. _

It was barely 8, he couldn’t start making calls until 9. Martin looked back at his desk, remembering the letter that was ruined. Forcing himself to sit, he uncrumpled the letter and rewrote it. An odd thing to take pride in, but Martin felt superior to the stereotype of doctors having terrible handwriting. Standing out helped get him into the position of lead surgeon, create the life he wanted, and that Jess needed, as well as ensuring that their children would have the best.

Martin got lost in memories for a bit, Mal’s birth, first day of school, but mostly the times that Mal came to see dear old Dad while at Harvard. _Might have been for class, but my boy still came to me._ Visits played through, Malcolm’s soft smile, the soft huff of laughter, and the sun making those beautiful grey blue eyes almost shine. 

Forcefully, Martin pulled himself back to present and glanced at the clock above the door. 8:45, just a little longer. Then maybe, probably unlikely, he can talk to Malcolm, make sure that he’s ok. _Well, consults first -- then I can wholly focus on Mal. Make as many calls as I’d like. I hope he got rest._ He paced around and looked at the clock again, 8:47. _Each minute lasts an eternity -- and now I sound like a cliché._

Inspiration struck Martin. _Send a letter to Mal at the precinct -- to sneak it in under the nose of the Usurper._ As much as Martin would try to claim, he had a deep well of jealous rage for Lieutenant Gil Arroyo. The man dared to believe that Malcolm was his son, act like it, no less! 

A manic grin twisted his face while he wrote this specific letter. _You can’t avoid me, my boy, not forever. _Martin was torn, he wanted Malcolm to read this letter in the precinct, Arroyo close by. _I may not enjoy terrifying you, m’boy, but I do _need_ you to understand that you’re mine. Just _mine_. _But the other part wanted Malcolm to take it home, read it there. A shiver went down his spine, _something of me in your space, something to remind you that I’ll always be with you. _

Mr. David strolled in, pushing the cart with the phone. Glee filled Martin, _we’ll talk soon, m’boy._ “What’s on the agenda, Mr. David?” He rose, the tips of his toes touching the edge of the line. Excitement built at the sight, need driving Martin.

The man raised an eyebrow, “you do your usual consulting, I’m assuming, then I dial your boy’s number a couple dozen times. Oh, and maybe we get TV to see if Ms. Ainsley’s on.” 

Martin’s eyebrows came together, “why is it a maybe? It’s our usual Wednesday tradition. What could have possibly changed?”

Just as Mr. David opened his mouth to speak, Martin’s one on one psychiatrist came in, pad of paper and pen in hand, “Good morning, Martin. Since our last session didn’t go so well, we’re having another. Your level of cooperation will determine if you get television privileges for the day.”

The want to kill this particular doctor boiled inside Martin. “Sounds wonderful, Stephan. Please, have a seat. Wouldn’t want to be impolite.” 

“It’s Dr. Haga, please,” he turned toward Mr. David, “please wait outside. When our time’s up, I’ll let you know.”

_Oh, I’ll take the utmost pleasure in removing you from this world, you condescending shrink, _Martin thought viciously as he seated himself at the desk chair. “Then I would ask that you call me Dr. Whitly, since we’re not on a first name basis.”

The other made no acknowledgement of his statement, just crossed his legs and stared at Martin. “Last time, when I asked where you went, you didn’t tell me. Based on recent visitors’ logs, I noticed that you’d had one several times in the last few weeks. Care to tell me about him, Mr. Malcolm Bright?”

_Oh, you want to play? Let’s._ “Where to start, where to start! Oh, that boy, he’s just amazingly intelligent! Did all his college assignments on me!” Martin paused, watched as Stephan body went taut, _jealous you small man?_

“I was under the impression that you don’t work well with others in the psychology field, Martin.”

“Oh, for very few I am, please, I asked you to call me Dr. Whitly, Stephan. After all, Mr. Bright is an interesting and very respectful person.” _Until recently, but that’s on me, _Martin mused, _pushing too hard when he’s carefully been hiding._ “It was always a pleasure to speak with him about his assignments. We had some very insightful discussions on other serial killers.”

He paused, scribbled something, then asked, “based on what I saw, he hasn’t been to visit in the last decade, did that not bother you?”

Martin went for the truth, “a bit, but it was also expected. What I believed his career path to be and what he actually ended up doing weren’t lined up, and we had a bit of a row. But from what I was able to follow, his time as a criminal profiler was very successful, seeing as he now works with the NYPD.”

“I would hazard a guess that some of the questions that he’s asked in the past were unpleasant for you. Were there any that you couldn’t answer or that made you angry?”

Martin was silent for a minute, “some but for the most part, I understood why he asked. After all, once he asked, he’d layout why he asked that question. Which I can appreciate since it’s undoubtedly led to his fantastic ability for profiling.”

“Why was it easier to talk to this young college student at the time than speaking with a psychiatrist who wants to help you?”

_And there. It. Is. _Martin wheezed out a laugh, “I’m sorry, you’re asking why talking to him was easier?” He laughed again, “because the boy knew exactly what I am and knew that playing games with people will always be something I enjoy.”

“Are you playing me, Martin?” A spark of anger lit Dr. Haga’s eyes. 

“Oh, _Stephan_, for once, I’m being mostly honest. But please, continue asking your questions, after all, you’re holding my daughter hostage unless I play your game.”

“I’m only trying to do my job, Dr. Whitly. You do so well in group sessions with others, but between us, you’re not invested.” He paused, chewing his words before he spoke, “does Mr. Bright remind you of your son? They share the same name and would be about the same age.”

Pride at making the other submit and use his title warred with surprise. _Does he truly not know? Oh, what a thrill! _ “Partially, but they’re both strong, after all my son kept visiting me until his Mother put a stop to it. I do worry about him, constantly, Jess was never the maternal type, at least with him. But I know there are people who look after him.” _Still hate Arroyo, but he’s been the support Mal needed while I’ve languished. If anything, that’ll give him a quick mostly painless death._

“Have you tried to contact your son?”

“When he’s ready, he’ll come to me,” Martin evaded, _ooh, the fun we’re having._ “But I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your professional opinion of those who go against their dynamic? What does it do to them and why would you think they hide it?”

Haga tilted his head slightly, “that’s an interesting topic to bring up, Dr. Whitly. How did that gain your attention?” 

He gestured vaguely, as though it was of little import, “my schooling focused more on the physiological versus the psychological. I did my rotation, but well,” he spread his hands, “I ended up dealing with bodies rather than people. This was a random thought I had. Wondering about how not Subbing or Domming would affect the person mentally.”

The other fiddled with the pen, uncrossing and crossing his legs, “this is a topic that there’s much debate on. Few who hide their dynamic come forward for studies -- some fear actions from the law, fallout from their families, fear that someone will attempt to use them. While I believe that there shouldn’t be any legal actions against those who hide -- though few states still have that sort of thing -- I hold that it does damage to the person.” Haga paused, checking to see that Martin followed.

“Think a Dom, if you will, pretends not to be what they are. They’re on edge with making sure that no one catches any hints, they force down the urges that are natural in order to fit into something. This causes stress, the mind will be on high alert at all times-- hyper vigilance is terrible for anyone for extended periods of time. Eventually, it does come out.” 

"Do you mean by Drops?"

Haga stared at Martin, "what's truly your interest with this, Dr. Whitly?" Dark eyes flicked over him, "is there someone you’re concerned about?”

“And if I were to say this concern is for my health?”

A soft snort, “Dr. Whitly, you exhibit your Dom tendencies and exert them. While you may not have conjugal visits, you aren’t hiding anything. But since you’ve been forthcoming today, I won’t pry.”

Haga diverged along new questions and Martin partially zoned out but kept himself tuned in enough that he could spout off bull shit answers. After about 30 minutes, Haga left and Mr. David brought in the TV. Ainsley wasn’t on quite yet, but Martin settled on her channel. Undoubtedly, she would be on some story here soon.

“Mr. David, might I trouble you to dial a patient? This is a sensitive matter; would you mind waiting in the hall after it connects?” _Was going to wait to call DeLorenzo, but Mal…_ He rattled off the number and when the other man was safely outside after the third ring, the PI picked up.

“Hello?”

“Ah, yes, hello, it’s Dr. Whitly, I was just looking at your file. Anything new?” he asked, hoping that over the last few days Malcolm managed to not get himself in trouble.

“Might be a problem—updated the locks on his apartment, it’ll be harder to get it and take some time. Something’s got him spooked.” There was a slight pause, “cop was here for awhile. Made food for him based off the grocery delivery I caught. My contact is having a bit of trouble getting his medical information from before 18. Mrs. Whitly came by and the kid somehow managed to throw himself out his window? He’s not been using his phone.”

It took all Martin had not to start swearing. “Thank you. Be in touch with payment soon. Please let me know if anything happens.” The dial tone ran through the room. _Shit, what would have…_ His thought trailed off, _fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything about the snake bite, should have just demanded to know what happened. Well, one cat’s out of the bag. Send the letter. Fucking hell, Mal, you’ll make me go grey faster._

**

After the excitement of Dr. Brown’s and the idea of trigging memory with smell, Malcolm was glad for the slight quiet of the precinct. He still hadn’t gone home, managing to hide from Gil. _Go home soon, but not yet. _Weighing the pros and cons of dosing himself with chloroform was hard, but the need for answers would outweigh anything else. _Not like I’m stable or sane anyway. Not tonight, walk tonight. Too keyed up._

As he walked the city, Malcolm stuck to highly trafficked areas with lots of people still aware that Martin had someone following him. _Small mercies for being in the city that never sleeps._ Insomnia was great for many things. He allowed the usual sounds of the city drown out his own thoughts. Zoned out would be bad, but honestly after the last few days, Malcolm felt as though he deserved it.

Around four in the morning, Malcolm ambled into his apartment, a nondescript bag in his coat pocket. Though small, the weight of what it could stir up made him feel nauseous. _Need answers! _He told himself firmly, _no one else will give them. Jessica pretends nothing’s wrong and would like me to do the same. Martin won’t tell me the truth. Ains, well sometimes I wish I didn’t remember._

His hand was unusually steady as he put drops on the pillowcase. _Here goes nothing. _As he slowly drifted off, Malcolm wondered if this would be worth it. His eyes fell closed and then images started flashing before things settled and Jessica was yelling at 10-year-old him.

He jolted awake, “Mom what did you do?”

In a daze, Malcolm let himself loose. He went through motions, followed the schedule that’d been long since established. Sunshine had food, meds taken, work out, shower. Bright slowly came back into awareness when Gil leaned up against his desk in the office.

“You ok, Kid? I’ve been here for a bit—night terrors?” Gil’s voice was gentle, and it soothed Bright. Forever thankful for Gil having been the one who came all those years ago.

He shrugged but leaned into the hand on his shoulder. “Something like that. Any cold cases?”

A soft laugh and some files were set down. “Start with these. We’re getting lunch today, City Boy.” A tight squeeze on his shoulder and Gil was gone.

Malcolm got lost in the cases, looking at each one. For each, Malcolm made detailed notes on everything. While engrossed in a double homicide, an envelope was dropped on the desk. He startled slightly but caught a look at an exhausted mail person. _Strange… _but he went back to the cases.

Around 12:30, Gil came and herded Bright out to the Le Mans. With the older man in front of him, Malcolm grabbed the envelope before they left the precinct. Thankfully Gil was several feet ahead of him when Malcolm looked down and stumbled. _That’s _his_ handwriting. Would know that anywhere. _He caught up to Gil, just as he was about to speak, his phone started vibrating. _Claremont, Jesus, Martin, why now? _He sent the call to his voicemail. Which was clear from all but one that had been left.

“I’m so sorry, raincheck on lunch? Mother just texted. Apparently, there’s a luncheon that she desperately needs me at?”

With a sigh and dramatic eyeroll, he shrugged, “then lunch’s is on you next time, Kid.”

He waited until the car was out of sight before hailing a cab to his apartment. _Gil can’t know. Get home and read the letter. _It felt as though the cab hit every single red light possible on the ride. The minutes passed, each making the letter burn a bigger hole in his pocket. _Shred the letter once it’s—Can’t let anyone find this. _

Finally, fucking finally, the cab rolled to a stop. Tossing a handful of bills in the general direction of the front, Malcolm all but ran into his loft. Locking the door and turning off his phone. _Letter or voicemail?_

His hand shook violently as he held the envelope. Malcolm forced himself to breathe slowly. A panic attack wouldn’t help anything in this situation. It opened easily under his fingers. He put the envelope on the bar, paper in hand, he poured himself a drink. Bright settled into the corner of the couch and curled in on himself. After downing the bourbon, the glass set aside, Malcolm opened the letter.

_My boy,_

_Oh, I’ll never tire of calling you that. I know that you’re scared. But like I said before, I could never hurt you. I’m so glad that you came home. That you’re seeing me again. Since you’ve been in DC, I worried about you. But that’s not why I’m writing. _

_Mal, I know that you’re aware that someone’s looking after you, but they’re not going to hurt you. They just let me know what’s going on. The snake bite, I’m assuming that you figured that out due to my slip. So smart, _my_ boy. _

_I worry about you. I know I’ve said this before but now that I know, truly, my concern has very much so increased. Tell me, Mal, does the Cop _know_? Does he help take care of you? Or does he want to but you’ve both established a Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy? I know that officially registering as what you rightfully are would potentially bring into question your judgement since you obviously didn’t follow time off guidelines. But don’t worry; I’ll take care of you. You’ll have my full attention._

_You’ll want for nothing, beautiful Sub, I’ll make sure that you are safe. But Mal, remember. You’re mine. No one else. No one will come between us. Not that filth, Gabriel Graham. Depending on your answers, I may leave Gil Arroyo out of my targets, but Mal, I _do not _share. I think by now, with that fantastic profiling ability that you’ve honed, you’re reading between the lines. What I’m saying is exactly what you’re thinking. Don’t worry, I noticed your glances when you were in college. Funny thing, separating a parent and child, things can develop quite differently. _

_I love you, Mal._

The letter wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. Several things crashed in on Malcolm, who was thankful he was already seated. _How can you still do this to me when you’re not getting out? When we don’t have physical contact. I ran away for ten years and you can still read me._ Bright forced those thoughts away and instead pulled out his phone.

With numb fingers he unlocked the phone and put it on speaker.

“Mal! M’boy! You should have gotten that letter by now. I hope you understand that I’m doing this to take care of you. A sliver of me hopes you opened it in office, but the selfish part hopes it’s in your apartment with you.” There was a slight pause as Martin’s tether moved. “I want something of me with you. I’d like something of yours, but I understand. That may be too soon. I also wanted to let you know, your mother stopped to see me. She found out about our visits. I won’t remove you from my allowed visitors, but she may.”

Malcolm felt sick, _why can’t I be fucking normal?! _But the voicemail continued. “But don’t worry. She doesn’t know about the calls. We’ll still communicate. Be safe out there Mal. I love you.”

It took all Bright had not to chuck his phone into the floor and watch it shatter. _Why can’t I have been born into a normal family? _Everything was spinning out of control. Martin knew the truth, his moth—Jessica was hiding something, a lovely stalker, and fear for Gil.

**

It was too much. The itch was back and after a minute, he caved. With purposeful steps, Malcolm walked towards the bathroom. All he needed was in there. Once the door was locked and shut, he pulled out a towel and from the medicine cabinet, he pulled a knife. He slid his pants off, sat in the shower.

One.

Two.

Three.

He watched dispassionately as blood ran from the cuts. _Finally, something I can control. _He waited and did another three. The burn helped numb the overwhelming feelings that were coming from all angles. _Should never have come back. Gil’s in danger because of me._ He wanted to do more, but Malcolm knew that he had to be careful. Gil—the one person who truly loved him, had found him passed out covered in blood, he would suspect. _Not going in for a few days. Have to let these heal._ Thoughtlessly Bright cleaned himself up.

The blade cleaned thoroughly, cuts covered carefully with antiseptic and gauze, towel hidden until he could throw it in the dumpster, Malcolm unlocked the door and headed towards his bed. Sleep would make it better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has a talk with Liv about dynamics, deals with the stress of an uncaring Mother and serial killer Father trying to invade his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for being patient! It's been a rough few months, I'm so sorry for the delay. I do want to toss out there that Jessica is going to be more OOC than not. When I started this we didn't know much and I need her to be this way for plot purpose. I do want to let y'all know, I do love Jessica and her whole arc in the show. Please let me know what you think and I'll work on getting the next chapter out for you. Enjoy the 10.5K words I got for ya. For those reading Blue Eyes, I'm working on that next. Also, if you're 18+ please join our PSon dumpster fire of a Discord. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/Dm2mTY9

Thick fingers brushed over Malcolm’s wrists, playing along the thin skin over his veins. A gentle tug at the supple leather cuffs before continuing their journey down his arm to his elbow. He arched into the touch and tried to follow as the hand pulled away, but was stopped short when the cuffs didn’t give. The blindfold kept him guessing, waiting for the next soft touch. He went to speak but realized he was gagged. He moaned, felt good being totally helpless to the teasing.

A soft hum and the hand flicked his sensitive nipples then the calloused hand came to rest on his belly. It felt vulnerable in a way that he’d never experienced before, always with his guard up. The submissive inside him purred, _ this, this is what we need. You don’t give it to us. _Malcolm ignored the voice and chose to focus on the feel of skin on skin. The hand at his nipple moved and rested on his thigh, squeezing lightly. This had been a fantasy that he’d locked away when he realized that registering as a Sub would destroy everything he wanted to accomplish. 

The touch teased along his pelvis but never going lower. Again the hand went away, but movement from the bed kept Malcolm from worrying that he’d been abandoned again-- _ No, did the right thing -- he was never _ my _ Dom. _ His legs were splayed over thick thighs. Kept him open to whoever was touching him -- _ you know, _ the voice whispered, _ you know exactly who’s playing with you. _ Finally, the hand gently started stroking his cock, he whined again behind the gag. Each drag of skin against skin heightened by desperation and restricted senses had Malcolm squirming. 

“So good,” the man whispered, “so good. Can you come for me, like this?” A quick twist of his wrist and Malcolm yelled, muffled. “That’s it, don’t hide. Don’t ever hide from me.” The air moved as the other leaned over him, the scratch of beard against his face had Malcolm turning towards the other. “You won’t ever hide from daddy, again, will you, Mal?” Martin’s voice purred in his ear. He picked up speed, making Malcolm hips jump and twist. _ Trying to get away _or at least that’s what Malcolm told himself. 

Hot puffs of air along his neck made him shiver, Malcolm tried to turn away, but his body wouldn’t move. Martin’s beard gently scratched along his chin and cheek, before Martin kissed his forehead and cradled Malcolm. “So good for daddy, little boy, so good. You’ll come just like this, make all the noise you want." 

With the gag in, Malcolm was forced to breathe through his nose, each inhale brought the smell of his Da-- Dr. Whitly's cologne into his lungs. He tried to move away from the hand carding through his hair, but the fingers tightened and pulled his head back, leaving his throat exposed. 

“I’m always with you m’boy, I’m the only one who can take care of you. It’s always been me.” Martin nipped and licked up his neck. “Why would you ever think I would let you scrape by on your own? After all, good Daddies don't leave their boys when they're hurting.” Martin bit harder where his neck and shoulder meet, “I want to try something else.”

Malcolm tried to force himself to wake up, _ shouldn’t be this hard-- just like any other night terror. _ The hand that was playing with his cock slid lower, teasing his rim. His fingers slick with lube, teased and prodded before finally one finger slipped inside. Malcolm shook his head, _ don’t want this, I don’t want this. _But his mind wasn’t listening, all the skill and knowledge of anatomy made Martin a very talented lover. 

Malcolm arched when his prostate was brushed lightly. “There we are,” he could hear the grin in Martin's voice, “just what I was looking for.” He massaged gently over the gland and it kept Mal on edge, nothing to push him over. A muffled whine slipped out, the slow pleasure killing him. “Come on, my dear boy, come for me.”

Malcolm shook his head, tried to fight the pleasure and wake up. He didn’t want this, never wanted to actually-- _ you can’t lie to yourself, Bright, why have you always been with older men? Older men who have beards and bellies? You can’t lie here. _

“Oh, my boy, you have to let go sometime. I’m so worried about you because you’ve Dropped and I just can’t have that happening to my perfect little boy.” 

The gentle teasing amped up and suddenly Martin was finger fucking his ass, hitting his prostate every time. Screaming and thrashing Malcolm tried to fight and shove the man away. He was close, so close and Martin knew. 

His orgasm slammed into him, his back arched and a soft whisper of, “that’s my boy.”

Malcolm’s eyes snapped open, sheets and blankets caught around his hips, daylight spilling into the loft. He spat the mouthguard out violently and got out of bed, running for the bathroom. He just barely made it to the toilet where he collapsed and threw up. Once his body purged the nothing in his stomach, Bright curled in on himself and hid his face in his knees. 

Sobs racked his frame, he hadn’t had one of these in so long and everything-- everything that happened in the last week caught up and overwhelmed Malcolm. His breath caught in his chest. He started heaving for air. _ Panic attack, ok. Deal with this, _ he thought clinically. He forced himself to take a deep breath and start box breathing. _ Just start here and go from there. _ Time passed without Malcolm’s knowledge, simply trying to breathe and pretend that he’d be fine. 

When he finally got his breathing under control, Bright stood and pulled off his clothing, headed straight for the shower mechanically. The water was turned to as hot as it could go and without flinching he stepped under the stream. The beads beat against his skin, when he noticed a strange sensation. Malcolm glanced down and noticed the gauze was soaked to his thigh, but he didn’t care. 

He started scrubbing his skin. Malcolm needed to get everything scraped off-- he couldn’t, Martin was on him. Bright wanted to throw up but he couldn’t, there wasn’t anything left. His legs gave out and Malcolm just sat there, letting the water scald his skin. He peeled the bandages away from his thigh and started picking at the scabs. _ What’s one more scar? Just to join the multitude of others, _ he mused. 

Malcolm wasn’t sure when he finally got himself off the tile floor, but his skin was red and irritated. He kept moving mechanically through his loft, ignoring everything. Bright was numb. The horror of knowing that Martin had someone watching him, reporting on him made his mind shut down. Nothing mattered, a case wasn’t going to fix anything. He let his mind spiral for a few minutes. But he had to stop, and couldn't stay in a fixed spot. 

The phone ringing startled Bright from his internal storm. He stared blankly for a moment, trying to figure out why his phone would be ringing. Slowly ambling over to his nightstand, Malcolm picked up his phone. One unread text showed on the screen. _ Didn’t make plans, I think? _ When the phone unlocked Malcolm tapped to pull up the message. It was from Liv.

_ It’s still alright that we meet today, right? We can do another day if that’s better? _

_ Fuck, _ Mal thought, _ didn’t realize. Can’t cancel on her now. _ Malcolm bit his lip, then sent, _ Of course. Does 11 still work for you? _

He set the phone down and forced himself to work through the usual morning routine. With everything wanting to overload Malcolm, he forced himself to focus on the movement of muscle and tendon. Letting science fill his mind on how each position was stretching and centering himself. By the time he’d worked through his yoga, Bright felt a little more under control, even if it was still far from his usual. 

At some point while he was exercising the phone went off again, but he ignored it. There was still time before Liv would be over. The cuts across his thigh pulled sharply, Malcolm grimaced but kept going. Routine was good from him, always had been, even before Martin was arrested. As Bright finished his last set of planks, he stood and glanced down, a little blood had soaked through the fabric. A quick look at the clock told him there was another hour before she’d get there. 

A quick shower and Malcolm was dressed and putting finishing touches on his suit. Just as he was starting up the French Press, his phone went off. It was a message from Liv. _ I’m a couple minutes out. _

Malcolm texted back and let her know that he would let her up. He looked at Sunshine, “ready for a visitor?” Sunshine whistled and fluttered around her cage. She made Malcolm smile slightly. Once the coffee was finished, Bright set a plate of fruit out. _ Something I can eat with little issue _. Strawberries, kiwis, raspberries, blueberries, and pineapple chunks were artfully displayed. The buzzer sounded and Malcolm swallowed his fear, he hadn’t talked about his secret. 

He let Liv in and settled at the bar and waited while she came up the stairs. _ Calm, just be calm. She won’t out you. It would damage both of you. _ He took some deep breaths trying to stop the building panic. _ Focus, just a conversation _ . Bright crossed a leg over the other, his body closed off. Liv smiled softly, in simple jeans and a tee. _ Doing best not to intimidate, unassuming, honest. _

“Morning Liv, can I offer you some coffee? I’ve got cream and sugar.” 

Malcolm kept his hands occupied so his hand couldn’t shake visibly. Liv said nothing for a few minutes, like she was trying to gather her thoughts. “Coffee would be nice,” she finally whispered. “I don’t know how to-- what to even ask. Everything’s just so much. How do you keep everything together, Malcolm?”

Bright laughed self deprecatingly, “who says I have it all together? But, no, it was terrifying. Knowing that I had to be careful and stay under control of everything. It’s why I’ve had no serious relationships. Just one night stands with Dynamicless people.”

“I, what was your reasoning behind hiding? I know mine, to keep my family from benefiting from my life and losing happiness.”

Malcolm took a deep breath and sighed, “I already was under the pressure of having a serial killer father and the stats of dynamic and how it affects lives is a study that people want to conduct on the children of serial killers.” 

Liv looked startled, “I- I never thought about that. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean--”

Malcolm shook his head, “It’s fine, Liv, you wouldn’t have known my reasons. After all, our situations are different. I needed to get into the FBI, away from New York. from people who knew me,” he sighed, “what’s on your mind?”

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t registered as a switch or that you could be normal?” Her voice cracked, “not been born into the family that you were?”

Malcolm flinched but reached out to cover her hand, “Almost every single day. There are some days that I want to run and start a new life, but I know that I wouldn’t be able to leave Mother and Ains.” His eyes flicked over her face, “emotionally wise, you’re going to need to find a way to handle drops. That’s going to be the hardest part.”

Liv swallowed hard then took a drink of the coffee, “why are you willing to help me? I know what my brothers did, you have every reason not to, to just let me struggle.”

He smiled sadly, “Liv, you weren’t a part of what they decided to do. I may have met up with Gabriel, but I have absolutely no intention of seeing him again. I’m helping you because I’ve been where you are. Something that I might also suggest, find someone that you truly can trust and have a Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell deal. It can help sometimes, someone who can support and check in on you, post Drop.”

She nodded and it was quiet for a time. Bright played with a raspberry before he ate it, unsure what more he could say to Liv, what other advice he could give. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but settled when he noticed that her body language was relaxed. _ Eyebrows slightly together, biting lip, eyes flicking back and forth, thinking. _Interrupting her wasn’t something he wanted, so Malcolm focused on his coffee. 

Suddenly she spoke, “why didn’t you try for Dynamicless? I’m sure that you would’ve been able to do it.”

A broken laugh escaped Malcolm, “It wouldn’t have been convincing. I’m too,” he gestured at himself, “me to be that simple. I went with a dynamic that I figured would be on that would make sense and also not have people asking questions. Remember the closer to the truth a lie is, the more believable it is.” 

Liv shifted, “should I consider that for me?”

“There are different levels of submission, Liv, if you think that you can pull of dynamicless, then do, that’ll open up a lot for you. There wouldn’t be restrictions or bull shit policy that could be detrimental to you.”

Malcolm was coming to the end of his rope, the panic was ramping up. This was the first open conversation that he’d had with anyone about dynamics. It made him antsy but he knew that she needed help. He took a sip of his coffee just for something to do and to have a delay tactic if Liv asked another question. 

The pair settled into silence. Liv stared down into her coffee mug and Malcolm studied the counter top. _ Won’t offer more up, hope she’s got enough. Need to be alone for a while. _For several minutes the only sound came from Sunshine’s cage. The soft singing and gentle flutter of her wings slowly helped Malcolm to relax. It was just him and Sunshine, nothing that could hurt him.

Liv sighed and glanced over at Bright and seemed to debate something before she carefully hugged the other. She squeezed him gently, “you have no idea how much you’ve helped me. If there’s ever anything I can do, please, let me know. I-- I know that I’ll never be able to express how grateful I am for your help.” With that, she stood and slipped out of his apartment. 

Tension melted from Malcolm’s shoulders as soon as the door closed. _ Thank fuck, I can’t-- no more today. _ Every part of him screamed to Drop again. To curl up under the weighted blanket, cuff himself, bury his nose in Gil’s cologne, and shut off the phone again. _ Can’t do it again so soon, Jessica will come around and I don’t need her knowing that I changed the locks again. _

At the thought of his Mother, it dragged his mind back to the letter that Martin had sent. _Shit, no, no we’re not going there._ _Should have burned it. No one can find it. _A dark voice in the back of his mind whispered that he enjoyed that letter, that Martin wanted to claim him, knew his darkest secret and wanted the same. _No, no, no. Not Dom and not my parent,_ Bright told himself firmly. _Can’t fall into this trap. Any more letters and I’ll make sure that they go straight to the shredder. _

The phone went off and startled Malcolm. A glance at the caller ID made him silence the phone. Claremont-- Martin. Malcolm quickly silenced the call. He stripped out of his slacks and button-up shirt before tossing on athletic sweats, t-shirt and doing up a pair of running shoes. _ Run before I do anything stupid. Look at the walls any longer and I’ll lose it. _Bright stretched and then locked everything up. 

Thoughts were clamouring but Malcolm forced them away, the whole point of the run was to keep himself under control. After a lot of trial and error, Bright found that utter physical and mental exhaustion worked to keep him from self harm and a drop. _ If I’m lucky, I’ll get a few hours of sleep. _

**

Malcolm lost track of how long he’d been running. The only thing he really noticed was that his body -- mostly his legs and lungs -- was making its displeasure at the abuse known. The sun was fairly low in the sky but the sun felt nice on his skin. He tilted his head back and smiled softly to enjoy the warmth soaking into his body. Malcolm glanced around to reorient himself as he started the jog back to his loft. 

When Bright finally made it in the door he moved towards his bed, kicking his running shoes off as he went. Mind thankfully blank and Sunshine’s soft singing in the background allowed Malcolm to relax more. His shin and calf muscles pulled and ached wonderfully after the intense run. The only thought Malcolm had beyond getting his shoes off was collapsing into bed but stopped by the kitchen island for his evening medication. 

_ Small hope for sleep. Shower in AM, call Gil. Ignore calls. Check for cameras. _Satisfied with his mental plan Malcolm stripped down to his briefs and collapsed onto his bed. He had just enough wherewithal to fasten the restraints and put in his mouth guard. 

**

Malcolm startled awake but for once he wasn’t screaming. _ Take the win where you can _, he told himself. He started his usual routine but the buzzer at his door sounded and it immediately put Bright on edge. Without bothering to see who was there, he let them in. Only a few people would be coming by this early.

“Darling,” Jessica called as she ascended the stairs, “I know the last time we spoke we didn’t part on good terms, I just wanted to talk to you about your most recent visitor. The Grahams know that Liv was here. Her Mother wanted to know if everything was alright.”

Malcolm mentally started to count back from one hundred by threes to keep himself from snapping. “Good morning, Mother. She was just fine. Had some last minute questions but I was able to help with those. What are you doing here?”

“A Mother can’t just stop by to see her oldest son?” 

Malcolm shuddered internally at the sickly sweet tone of voice, “Please don’t treat me like a child, Mother. Or as an idiot.”

Jessica’s arched eyebrow told Malcolm exactly what she thought and frankly, he wasn’t in the mood to handle her with kid gloves at the moment. “What? What do you want? Let me say this point blank, Liv’s just fine. There’s nothing between us and there won’t ever be. Sorry that I’m once again failing at improving the Whitly name.”

Her eyes narrowed but suddenly her face went blank, “Malcolm, I didn’t expressly come here to talk about Liv, though I’m glad she’s well.” She made a moue with her lips, “Are you quiet sure that there’s nothing between the two of you? I’m sure that you could make it work.” 

Usually Malcolm could put on enough of a show and de-escalate things with Jessica but between being honest with Liv, Martin’s acknowledgement of his true dynamic and feelings, and his backslide with cutting a couple of days ago, almost five years and now it’s down the shute. He could still feel the burning when his skin pulled taut with each step. 

“Look, we both know that you want to marry me off to some family that will increase your standing and make them forget about Dr. Whilty. I’m not going to force Liv into a relationship with me, after all I’m very far from being a catch.” He took a deep breath, “That would be easier if you’d change your name back to Milton, then everyone would--” 

There was a loud noise and delayed stinging when Malcolm realized that she’d hit him. This didn’t happen frequently, but it wasn’t new. “Lovely, Mother, I’m just pointing out the obvious, but fine, take it out on me because I look like him.” He couldn’t stop the words from flowing out and watching her move away slightly.

Jessica paused for a moment to decide what she would say. He could see rage but she shut that down and then said, “I know you’ve been seeing your Father so I’ve gone ahead and removed you from his visitor list.”

The pause had Malcolm tilting his head, “Why? If I see him, what business is it of yours? He’s been helping on cases.”

“He’s making you worse, Malcolm! You threw yourself out a window all because you’re seeing him again.” 

Malcolm looked down letting her words sit before he looked up, eyes pinning her in place. “He’s not the only one in my dreams, Mother.”

Something flashed in Jessica’s eyes but was smothered quickly, “See, this is Martin’s doing. Those dreams about the girl in the box all are coming out since you’ve moved home. It’s why I had your name removed.”

“There are questions that need answers, Mother. I told you about her, the girl in the box. I remember, you were wearing a red dress. Did you know?” Malcolm did his level best to keep his tone even and unaccusing, “there’s only two people with answers and one’s right here. You told me it wasn’t my business and to not be down there. Did you know that Dr. Whitly was--” the rest of his sentence was cut off as Jessica slapped him hard across the face a second time. 

“Don’t you dare, Malcolm. Don’t you---” Jessica snapped but stopped suddenly when she saw the look in his eyes. 

“Get out, get out of here now.” Malcolm’s voice sounded wrong to his own ears. His cheek stung and he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw a raised line. She’d always been fond of her jewelry, rings especially. “Leave.”

She opened her mouth to speak but Malcolm stared Jessica down, “Get out. Just go.”

She moved quickly, heels clicking with each step. Before she was out of view she looked at Malcolm and stopped, but he turned his back. This wasn’t unusual but it wasn’t common for her to hit him. _ Must avoid Gil, can’t see me like this. _ Once the lock clicked behind her, Malcolm moved slowly around his loft. 

Time moved and he wasn’t aware of much until his phone started vibrating. Without looking he answered the phone but said nothing.

“Good afternoon, m’boy!” Martin’s cheery tone was a slight shock, but Malcolm didn’t say anything. “Malcolm?” he said again, concern tightened his tone, “what’s wrong? Your breathing’s unsteady, sweetheart, what’s happening?”

Malcolm bit his lip trying to keep his emotions at bay. _ Should call Gil, Gabrielle, someone _ . But he didn’t hang up the phone, instead his voice was locked away but his walls shattered at sweetheart. He keened softly then silent tears streaked down his face. _ Too much, too much. Need to leave, have to- _ There wasn’t enough air, he couldn’t breathe. The phone was too heavy in his hand and slipped from numb fingers. 

** 

Martin gritted his teeth as the call suddenly disconnected, “Mr. David, I need you to dial the non-emergency line to a precinct and get me to Lieutenant Gil Arroyo. Now.” 

David raised an eyebrow at the tone but quickly dialed the number and got transferred where it needed to be. “Arroyo,” the tired voice answered.

“Gil, wonderful to talk but this needs to be quick.”

Any exhaustion vanished, “Whitly, what do you want?” 

“Get to Malcolm, he’s having an episode of some kind, he wasn’t responding to me and we were disconnected. I hate to tell you but Mal needs someone and obviously, I can’t get to him.”

The phone disconnected but Martin didn’t care, he just needed to know his boy was ok. That someone would look after him. _ Mal, wish I wasn’t here, that I could hold you again. I need to know that you’re ok. _ He took a deep breath and glanced at Mr. David. “We’ll call Malcolm again shortly, I just need to know he’s ok.”

Each minute felt longer than the last. _ Arroyo hasn’t called, who knows how long it’ll take to get to Mal, _ Martin thought angrily, _ what the fuck happened, boy? _

He paced back and forth, unable to be still while Mal needed him. There had been a few times when his boy had come to visit and had had panic attacks. _ If you would just take care of yourself, m’boy, if you just had a strong Dom there who could take you to subspace and get you to let go. _ His thoughts were a vicious cycle while he waited. He needed to bide time, his plan of escape wasn’t quite ready to be executed. _ Need to move it up, he needs me. _

“Martin,” David said softly, “would you like the TV? Something to occupy until you’re ready to call him back?”

For all that Martin wanted to scream, he knew the man tried to help. David had been there for twenty years and they’d come to respect each other. “I appreciate what you’re trying David, but I need to call Malcolm.”

David frowned and nodded, “It’s been twenty minutes, do you want to try and call again?”

He nodded with eyes narrowed at each ring. “This is Bright, leave a message.”

Again and again he called, but still that damn “This is Bright, leave a message.”

After the sixth call, David looked at him. “Should we try Arroyo? He may be able to tell you how your boy is.”

Martin hated Arroyo but this time he was useful, able to take care of Mal while he was out of reach. _ Hold him, need to hold him. _With a growl, “Do it.” 

Within three rings Arroyo answered, “What?”

“How is he?” Martin snapped out, “is he okay?”

There were muffled sounds in the background, closing of a door, then quiet. “He’s resting, got him calmed down. When you called was he hyperventilating?” 

“He couldn’t speak, someone or something must have set him off.”

Gil’s sigh echoed over the phone, “I have an idea. There’s a cut on his cheek.”

“What?” Martin’s response was quiet but sharp. “What do you mean he’s got a cut on his cheek?”

Gil went silent for a minute, “I don’t know beyond that there’s a cut on his cheek and he’s not talking.” 

“Why aren’t you with him right now?!” Martin demanded, “he shouldn’t be alone!”

Gil huffed into the phone, “I got him laying down and in one of his coping spots. Figured you wanted an update after his phone went off six times. I didn’t want to disturb him since he passed out.”

Martin could feel the vein throbbing in his forehead, Malcolm passed out and he wasn’t there. He waited to hear some sort of indication of movement but nothing. “Are you sitting with him? Did you make sure that--” 

Gil cut him off, “Don’t need lessons from you on how to help him with these attacks. Been there for those.” 

Martin sneered, “I’m sure. After all, Jessica could never handle anything complex. I’m assuming you’ll leave him alone.” 

A sigh, then, “No. I haven’t ever left without talking through what happened. Not that you would know. You’ve never had to watch him struggle for air and mute because it’s all too much.”

Martin wanted to hurt the man, to flay him but those words pulled him up short. “He’s still my boy.” _ Not that it can be overstated with _ you, _ Arroyo. _ “After one does he usually tell you what happened?” _ Need to know everything. _Over the phone Martin heard muffled shifting and a long exhale.

“Sometimes he does. He’s a little looser when he’s worn out and can’t pretend he’s fine.” Gil took a breath, “I do my best not to pry because I know that that could make Malcolm worse later.” 

Both fell into silence for a minute and Martin glanced over at David. The man was doing his best to not focus on the conversation but he could see the tension ease out at the realization that Malcolm was okay for the most part. “Tell him to call me when he’s up to it, Leutianent.” 

There was an acknowledging hum and then the line disconnected. An unsteady quiet settled between Martin and David for a minute or two before Mark spoke again. “I think I’m done with calls today, David. If you wouldn’t mind?”

The phone was wheeled out and Martin watched as he settled back in at his post just outside the door. The urge to scream, rage, and tear up his cell made his fingers itch but he held that in check. _ Would lose phone privileges, not be able to check in on my boy _ . Instead, Martin forced himself to sit and start another letter to Malcolm. This one was short and to the point. _ When I get out, Mal, I’m going to read all of these to you. _

Martin set the letter aside but emotions that he couldn’t process were still flooding his body. Words were coming to his head so Martin started to draw and he fell into the soothing feel of light strokes and shading. Without much thought, he continued to work. 

Hours passed while he focused on his work. Once it was done, Martin settled back and took in what he’d created. _ My Boy, someday we’ll have this. _ On the page, he’d drawn Malcolm, head pillowed on a thigh, eyes hooded with a slim collar around his throat. _ You know that Daddy will take care of you, Mal. Even though you want to fight it. _ The need to brush along Malcolm’s cheeks was intense but he wouldn’t ruin the art. _ Must send it to him _ or _ keep it, imagine that he’s here with me. _

Martin took the paper with him and settled down on his cot. Then curled around the drawing and let his mind wander. Those first few days with Martin would be the scariest for his boy. _ He must know I wouldn’t hurt him, but still, fear is a strange thing. _ In his mind, he could see it. Malcolm’s hands cuffed together, a slim gag to keep him from getting too loud and to make it easier for him to hear Martin. Blindfold so that the only thing Mal would have was his voice and Martin brushing his fingers through Malcolm’s hair. 

_ I’m going to read you those letters, pretty sub, make you listen even when you’ll try not to. You’ll understand then just how much I _ need _ you, like you need me. _ Martin wanted to hold his boy close and make sure he got real sleep. _ After all, if a real monster’s guarding you, what imaginary one could hurt you, Mal? _ Once all the letters were read, Martin knew he’d put his collar on Malcolm. _ It’ll settle you and keep you with me. _

So lost in his mind Martin lost all track of time and eventually the lights went down and Martin drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Malcolm on his knees, head resting on his thigh.

**

Gil’s heart was in his throat when he looked at Malcolm. His skin was pale, the bags under his eyes were almost purple, and that cut across his cheek turned Gil’s stomach. _ What happened, Kid? Was it Jessica? _

He forced his mind from that track and instead focused on the kid that wormed his way into Gil’s and Jackie’s lives. After the frantic call from Claremont and rush across town to get to Malcolm, he was exhausted. It’d taken a lot of coaxing and box breathing to get Malcolm to settle even a little bit. Once he managed to get through those crystal blue eyes welled with tears before Malcolm closed his eyes and turned his head away. 

It hadn’t taken much but Gil was able to get Malcolm down on the couch and a quick move towards the closet he snagged the weighted blanket before tucking it in around his kid. “Fuck kid, you had the day off, what happened?” He asked the silence. The only response was a soft sound from Sunshine. “If only you could tell me, Sunshine, maybe it’d make this easier.”

After speaking with Dr. Whitly a second time, Gil was done. He turned his phone on silent and shut Malcolm’s off all together. Once both phones were handled, Gil took his customary spot next to Malcolm and waited. _ These always did make nightmares worse, _ he mused, _ lets hope you sleep City Boy. _

Gil watched time pass on his phone while he answered texts from Dani and JT. Both asking in their own way if the profiler was doing okay. Thankfully both were placated with simple texts which would stop them from dropping by. If there’s one thing Gil learned over the years, Malcolm limited who saw this side of him. _ Me and Jackie, but now I wonder, do you let anyone else know? _Some days he wanted nothing more than to bundle Malcolm up and keep him safe and away from people who would hurt him. The larger part knew that Malcolm wouldn’t survive that way, that keeping Malcolm from helping people would destroy a key piece of the man he’d made himself into.

While he left his mind to wander for a while, Gil started to hear the tell tale signs that Malcolm was having a night terror. He moved over to where he’d gotten his kid settled and softly shook Malcolm’s shoulder. “City boy, you’re safe,” Malcolm just kept writhing under his hand. “Malcolm, c’mon kid, open those eyes, you’re safe. No one can get you here.”

Even with the litany of words, Malcolm was shaking and fighting so Gil went for broke and pulled his city boy to his chest with Malcolm’s arms trapped between them. “Kid,” he spoke louder, “You gotta wake up. You’re safe and nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here.” _ Hate how thin you are, kid. You’re gonna give me a head of white hair soon. _“Malcolm, c’mon kid,” Gil kept urging him until eventually, he felt Malcolm’s hands fist in his sweater and a quiet sob before it was stifled and then silent. 

“With me, kid?”Gil squeezed the back of Malcolm’s neck when there was no answer. “We sit like this for as long as you need, City Boy.” He rested his hand heavily on the back of Malcolm’s neck, squeezing every so often to remind his kid that he wasn’t alone. _ Should get you out of the city, away from everything kid, _ he mused, _ wish we could have adopted you, taken you somewhere you wouldn’t be hurt… _ Gil cut that line of thought off, it wouldn’t do anything for anyone. _ Can’t change the past. _

He wanted to glance at his watch curious as to how long Malcolm had rested before the night terror interrupted his sleep but that didn’t matter. Nothing did but staying with Mal consciously. _ Made that mistake once, never again. _The forced positive words and attitude hurt so deeply at seeing a thirteen year old kid try and go stoic. Gil’s eyes burned at just that memory and he tightened his hold on those thin shoulders under his grip. Part of him ached to ask if things were worse because of the recent Drop but it’d break the unsaid bargain between them for work purposes. Before he could get too far down that road, Malcolm pulled away and looked Gil in the eyes.

“Thanks, Gil.” The words were hoarse and Malcolm’s eyes were vacant for the most part. 

“Hey, no thanks necessary, City Boy, you’re family. Family takes care of each other.” He let Malcolm move away but kept a hand on his neck. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but can you tell me what happened?”

Malcolm was silent for several minutes and folded in on himself as he seemed to fall back into thought. “Mother,” he said simply, gaze falling to his clenched fists. “I- Gil, please?” Those crystal blue eyes were begging and Gil’s heart cracked.

"Ok, kid, ok." They both lapsed into silence. _ For once Kid, I want to pry. Why's there a cut on your cheek? Was she drinking? _Instead, Gil forces that all down. "Come to the prescient? I've got a few cold cases you can work on." He was pushing it with Dani and JT with how long they'd take his answers before coming to Bright's loft and knowing his kid, knew it was a bad idea. Leaving his kid was also off the table.

Malcolm didn't say anything but got up and walked towards his closest, grabbing a suit and then closing the door quietly behind him. With Bright occupied for the time being, Gil sent a quick text to Dani. _ Find the most interesting cold cases possible and put them in my office. _ He needed to keep his kid occupied even when Gil wanted nothing more than to confront Jessica and know what she’d done to Malcolm.

He looked up when he heard the door open and Malcolm stepped out. The red mark suspiciously gone and looking his usual put together self. “Before we go in kid, want to stop and get some coffee and some soup?” 

Gil waited until Malcolm was ready to answer, an idea forming but he needed to keep Malcolm with him and close. Finally Bright nodded and Gil moved over towards him. He reached up and rested a hand on his nape and started directing him out and to his Le Mans. “I’ll get you some chicken soup from Panera.” 

He felt Malcolm’s shoulder shrug and he stayed quiet. “You’re going to work in my office.” His words were firm and he waited for a denial or some sort of facade to come up but his kid just was quiet under his grip. “It’ll be quiet and no one will ask questions.”

At Malcolm’s lack of response Gil was concerned but he knew leaving his kid alone to tailspin and deal with it alone. _ Much worse than the Drop a couple weeks ago. God kid, I don’t want to do this in public but I need you out of this place and where I can know you’re ok. _Malcolm moved easily under his hand but was still quiet. He waited until they were in the car and on the road before he said anything.

“We don’t have to, City Boy, but I wanted to talk about this here. I’m worried and I know that you don’t go with your instincts at times but I need to take care of you, just for a bit. Will you let me?”

He saw Malcolm’s throat bob but he didn’t say anything. “I’m getting you food and we’ll both work but I’m going to have you within reach so I know what’s going on.” He kept quiet for a bit longer. Bright hadn’t spoken since he said Jessica had been the cause. “Can you speak, kid? If not tap your thigh once for no and two for yes.”

He waited for Malcolm but then he saw the defined one tap. “Ok kid, we can work with that. Would kneeling and working help?” Gil let Mal think on it until the next stoplight, and then looked over. Bright tapped his thigh once. _ That’s new _, Gil waited for a minute. “Do you just want to kneel and I sit on the couch and work?”

He tapped once, but quickly tapped twice. “Ok, is this yes and no?” Gil’s gut turned, it wasn’t often that Malcolm went mute and it was horrifyingly telling for how bad his City Boy was. “We can work with this, I just need to help you, need to make sure that you’re ok.”

Traffic started moving again and Gil was tempted to pull over and have the conversation out then get food. _ He’ll fight and I won’t make this worse on him. _“If it’s too fast, let me know, kid. A hand on my arm, something. We usually don’t deal with this but just this once, let me help.”

A hand didn’t reach out and there was stillness in the car until the next light. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and focused on Malcolm’s hand, two taps. “A yes and no.” While they were sitting there, Gil had a thought and handed his cell to Malcolm and put an element of command in his voice, “Go into the notes and type what you need. Think about it carefully. Once we’re in the office, things will be handled.” 

While Malcolm typed away, Gil focused on getting soup and getting them back to the precinct. There was so much that he wished could change but it was well past that point. _ Only way out is through _ , he thought. As he glanced at Malcolm, still typing away, his heart ached. _ You lost so much and there wasn’t much we could do beyond love you. Wish you were here, baby, to take care of our kid. _

While he trusted that he'd be left alone, worry ate at him, unsure if Bright would truly be able to drop and Gil help him surface without any additional interference. When they finally made it to the station, Gil parked and held his hand out for the phone. He let the carry out bag sit on his lap as he unlocked the phone and started to read.

_ Can I lay on the couch and just rest my head on your leg? Tell me that I'm good and keep your hand on my neck? _

He looked at his kid, curled in on himself and trying to pretend that this wasn't one of his hardest Drops or disassociation episodes. "Of course, City Boy. I'll keep everyone out, too." Gil thought that it best to make sure that Malcolm knew that he wasn’t about to let anyone come in and see him vulnerable, not even JT and Dani. 

The tense hold of Malcolm's shoulders eased slightly at his words. He gave Bright a few more minutes before he slid out of the car and walked towards the entrance, Malcolm not far behind. “C’mon City Boy, let’s get moving.” Gil waited until Malcolm was within an arm's reach before transferring the bag to the other hand so he could steer Malcolm with a hand on the shoulder. 

Just through the doors, Gil paused at the desk and gestured for the man’s attention. “Jackson,” he called, a touch louder than the din in the bullpen behind them. When he had the young man’s attention. “I’m unavailable for the rest of the day. Please pass along to people coming in, I won’t be able to speak in my office. If they push, tell them to call and I’ll handle it. Dealing with a high priority case.”

At the man’s nod, Gil nodded and clapped Bright on the shoulder, “Let’s go solve this, Kid.” _ Please, please let Dani and JT be out. I already don’t want to do this here but Jessica’s less likely to burst in and make trouble. _“We’ll eat and get to work, Bright.” Even though he knew they weren’t it felt like more eyes were on them as Gil moved them quickly across the room. He flipped the lock on the door and started closing the blinds so no one could see in. “Eat as much of the soup and bread that you can, kid. I’ve got water, too. Once you’re finished, we’ll do the rest, ok?” Gil waited for Mal to finish eating, he wasn’t going to rush his kid. Not when he could get sick and feel worse. He handed him a bottle of water and let him sip for a few minutes before reaching out to Malcolm.

“Hey kid, can we get your shoes and jacket off and make you comfortable?”

At the slight nod, Gil knelt and pulled Malcolm’s shoes off gently before helping him out of the suit jacket. “I’ll be back kid, just need a sec.” He grabbed the file from his desk and the blanket that he kept stored in the bottom desk drawer. Gil settled the blanket around Mal and sat down on the couch next to him. 

Before Gil helped Malcolm lay down, he sent a quick text to JT and Dani letting them know that he was back and had Malcolm with him but that they couldn’t come in, Bright was not in a good place and he was with Gil so that he could keep an eye on Bright. 

_ Thank God you’re short kid, _ Gil mused as he helped Malcolm lay down. Once he was down, Gil squeezed Malcolm’s neck and let his hand rest there while he used the other to flip through the file. “You’re good, Mal, always have been.” The muscles bunched under his hand at the words but Gil wasn’t going to stop. _ This is what you asked for Malcolm and I’ll give that to you so we can get you level and safe. _

Gil let about ten minutes pass before speaking again, leery of making things hard on Bright. “I’m so proud of you, Jackie would feel the same. Saving so many lives.” He tightened his fingers for a few seconds before running his fingers through Malcolm’s hair. “You’re good, with everything that’s happened, you’re still so good.” Malcolm shuddered under Gil’s fingers but stayed limp, his breathing slowly becoming even. The tightness is Gil’s chest eased, _ not fighting, kid, that’s good. Maybe you’ll actually hear for once. _As he was about to compliment Bright again, Gil’s phone rang. That seemed to pull Malcolm out of it and he tensed under Gil’s hand. Reacting instinctively, Gil’s fingers tightened their hold. “It’s ok, City Boy, stay quiet for me.”

Gil didn’t bother to glance at the ID and just held it up to his ear, “Arroyo.” He kept running a hand through Malcolm’s hair so he’d stay still. 

“We’re headed back in,” JT said, “The lead came up empty.” He paused slightly, “Is Bright doing ok? You left in a hurry.”

Gil sighed softly, “We’re in my office and we’re working on it. If you need anything, just text and I’ll get back to you. Pass that along to Dani?” At the affirmative noise, Gil said, “Thanks.”

As he played with Malcolm’s hair on the call, Gil felt more tension easing from his kid. Once it ended, he asked, “Do we need to change anything, Mal?”

There was quiet for a few minutes before Malcolm spoke, “Need to get vertical.” He paused for a breath, “Can I kneel and you keep talking to me?”

Though Gil couldn’t see Bright’s face, he knew that tone. _ You deserve good things, City Boy. Taking care of you is never a chore. _ He squeezed Malcolm’s nape, “Of course kid, but keep that blanket on. Sleep if you need to.”

While Malcolm adjusted position and kept his head pillowed on Gil's knee, he moved his hand and started threading it though Bright's loose strands. "That's it, City Boy, you're doing great."

Words weren't coming easily to Gil, this wasn't something that they'd done in the past. Close it came to going over and making sure the kid rested and ate after a Drop. _Really pushing that Don't Ask, Don't Tell deal we've got._ _Wouldn't mind doing this for you if it meant it would stop you from dropping Malcolm. _"I'm always here, kid, can't get rid of me. You're great at taking care of people." He paused, "So intelligent and amazing at what you do." 

Malcolm's breathing sounded steadier the longer he knelt. _ Thank God you're coming back up, City Boy. _ "Talk to me, Bright, how are you feeling?" Gil asked after about 20 minutes later. 

“I’m ok, Gil,” he muttered, “thank you.” 

Gil stood up slowly and helped Malcolm to his feet, “It’s no problem, City Boy. You’re my kid and it’s what family does.” He rested a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, “You can stay to work if you want, kid or I can take you home?”

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Malcolm spoke, “Let me work?” 

“Of course, City Boy. On my desk, Dani put some interesting cold cases that we need a new set of eyes on. Think you can catch a murderer before we call it a day?” Gil hoped that the humor would help Mal get on even footing. 

A soft smile crept across Malcolm’s face and the shadows faded from those crystalline blue eyes. “You can stay here and work, I’ll keep everyone out. What would you like to do?”

“Keep them out? Or at least until I come out? I just need to pull myself together.”

Gil squeezed Malcolm's shoulder tight, “Long as you need, Bright.” 

At Malcolm’s smile, Gil nodded and left his office. When he was just out of earshot of his office, JT and Dani cornered him. JT’s expression was pulled tight, lips pursed, eyes darted back and forth between Gil and his office. Dani hid her worry better, but Gil could see it in her eyes. He raised a hand to stop any of the questions he knew were coming. “He’s ok, just needs some space. Let him be until he comes out of the office, please?”

Both of them nodded, but Dani glanced back one more time. “If I make him some tea, will you give it to him?” 

Gil studied her for a minute, “Sure thing, just let me know when it’s done.” She left and he moved towards where Bright usually set up when he’d been called in. Unconsciously Gil shifted the files in his hands, there was a dilemma that he had to figure out. _ She hit Malcolm, at least once. He disassociated for several hours and had a fucking Drop. Jessica’s gone too far. _ These thoughts worked through Gil’s mind running in vicious circles. _ Between Dr. Whitly and Jessica’s inability to see Malcolm as his own person… Hate to think what would happen if he wasn’t as strong willed. _He focused on the door to his office, one place he could keep his kid safe in when things were hard. Gil glared at the desk, rage boiling at Jessica’s behaviour. 

At the soft sound of a throat clearing, Gil glanced up. “Here, can you take this into our profiler?” Dani’s voice was quiet and he fought a smile. Dani and Malcolm had grown close. It was nice, his kids getting along. 

“Yeah,” he stood and took the mug. “Thank you, Dani.”

Dani shrugged, “Tea makes things better. Probably helps that it doesn’t have caffeine.” 

"Smart, thank you.” Gil moved easily across the bullpen and knocked. “It’s me kid, I’ve got tea for you.” Malcolm made some vague sound of agreement so he opened the door. The light of the late afternoon sun cast shadows which made Malcolm look paler than usual. “Here, Dani made you a cup.”

Malcolm smiled tiredly as Gil set the mug down. “Tell her thanks, please?”

“Of course, City Boy.” He paused in the doorway, “Let me know when you’re ready to head to your place, I’ll drop you off.” But Malcolm already moved his focus back to the files. At that, Gil smiled, _ That’s my kid, but I hope you know I’m here. _

The hours moved quickly while Gil worked through his files with the occasional glance towards his office. He caught glimpses of Bright pacing in front of his desk, one hand holding his chin while the other arm wrapped around his middle. _ Hope this helps you, Bright. But I’ve got another dilemma to think through. _ Once again, his mind turned towards everything that had happened in the last several hours. _ They both need to be confronted but can’t do both today… But I need to start somewhere. The Surgeon will take time and Jessica’s easier access-- _Gil’s mind ran in circles still, talking to either one had pros and cons. 

Jessica could make life hard in the office for Malcolm by pulling strings or passing along what Malcolm’s previous last name was. She would have no qualms about doing that to him. _ She wishes he was normal or would bow to her every whim. _ Gil rubbed his eyes tiredly. _ Hate how you can’t appreciate who Mal is a human being and what he chooses to do. _Though he wished it, Gil wasn’t blind to how his kid said he needed murder and kept him sane but saw the cracks when it was too close to home. 

With Martin, he was confined to an institution which meant he wouldn’t be able to get out and cause issues where Malcolm lived or worked but he had direct access to Malcolm. Calls and voicemails. _ Gotta do what I need to to take care of my kid. _ The man was selfish, but that wasn’t a surprise after all. _ Narcissist _, a voice that sounded like Malcolm echoed in his head. Malcolm always came back worse after seeing Martin and it hurt to see.

So lost in thought Gil started slightly when he looked up and saw Malcolm. “Hey Kid, what’s up?” 

Bright cocked his head slightly and gave one of his rare soft smiles, “I think I have a lead on the Jenkins’ case, if you want to hear?” 

He felt his eyes crinkle at Malcolm’s words. A small olive branch to let Gil know that he was getting there. “Oh, have it all solved, huh?” The smile grew and there was more light in Malcolm’s eyes. “Why don’t you share with the class?” He waved Dani and JT over to where they were.

“Bright thinks he’s got a lead on the Jenkin’s case,” he told them once they were all gathered around. “Let’s hear it and see what the consensus is?” Gil watched as his kid shared his theory and let the three debate. _ So good to see you guys getting along. _

The three kept at it, JT suggesting other options, Dani asking more questions, and Bright content to answer and expound on his theory. His kids poured over the file before they all turned to look at him. “I trust your judgement but,” he took a quick look at this watch, “I suggest we pick this up tomorrow. It’s almost eleven.” 

Bright looked put out but the other two moved towards their desks to gather belongings. 

“Later,” JT called waiting for Dani, “We’ll see who’s right about this tomorrow, Bright.” Dani smirked and raised her hand in acknowledgement and the pair headed out.

“That’s our cue, City Boy. I’ll drop you off, ok?”

Malcolm shrugged into his coat and they both left the office. The silence was easy between them. Gil glanced out of the corner of his eye to check on Malcolm. Tension that had been riding his kid so hard the last few weeks was lifted significantly but he knew that this was a temporary fix. He reached out and dropped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and squeezed slightly before moving to the driver’s side. 

“Need to make any stops before I drop you off, Kid?” Gil didn’t want to overstep but Malcolm always brought out the protector and parent in him. “Just tell me and we can.” 

Bright smiled slightly, “I’m good, Gil. One hundred percent,” he said with a wink. 

The joke eased something under his ribs and he smiled back. “Sure City Boy, you tell yourself that.” 

Quiet settled back in and slowly the anxiety eased up and Gil felt better about where Mal’s head was. Another ten minutes and Gil pulled up to the curb. Just as Bright was about to get out, Gil sighed, “I’m only passing this along and I really hope you don’t but,” he trailed off. “Dr. Whitly asked you to call him back when you felt up to it.”

Emotions flicked across Malcolm’s face faster than Gil could read before the Kid went blank. “I didn’t want to upset you, but I couldn’t lie to you. Do I hope that you don’t call him? Yeah, that’s what I hope.” A muscle twitched in Malcolm’s jaw and he held up a hand. “I know that I’m the reason that you went, cause I called you in on the copycat. I fucked up Kid.”

He started when Malcolm lunged and wrapped his arms around Gil’s shoulders. “Never blame you,” there was a catch in his voice. “Just so glad you don’t lie to me.” 

A knot settled in his stomach and Gil held Bright that much closer with a hand on his neck, “Won’t ever lie to you, Malcolm. Even if it would make things easier.” They stayed like that for a few more moments before Malcolm pulled away and opened the car door. “Go get some sleep, Kid, and be in by ten, not before.”

An impish smirk and Malcolm was out of the Le Mans before Gil got another word in.

**

The air was cool as Malcolm headed for the door to his loft, the urge to go take a walk pushed but after his long run, seeing Jessica in his dreams, and the Drop, he thought better of it. _ Still need to do the daily check. See if there are cameras yet. _ Walking up the stairs, Malcolm heard Sunshine singing softly and smiled. She’d been an impulse buy but Bright was grateful to have her. Her chirps and warbles made him smile. When he had her out, she was very affectionate and was content to groom his hair and take snacks when he offered.

“One minute,” he told her, moving around his loft. “Just need to make sure that nothing’s shown up while I was out.”

Bright moved around carefully. So far his searches hadn’t turned up any cameras or proof that someone had broken in. _ But it’s not like I have anything setup to know for sure other than checking for bugs _, he thought as he ran his fingers over the edges of his weapons cases, bookshelves, and in drawers. But as before, nothing there. “Small mercies, Sunshine, still haven’t found anything yet.”

As he moved over to her cage, Bright realized that he felt lighter than he had in a long time. After unlocking the door and letting Sunshine hop into his hand, Malcolm gently brushed his fingers along her head and down her wings. “Gil’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he told her. “I wish he was my dad,” he sighed softly. That wasn’t something he vocalized often, the pain of those words was occasionally too much. She just chirruped and hopped around. “Fine, fine, I’ll get your treats.”

Malcolm had a handful of berries and sunflower seeds and moved back towards the couch. Sitting down gracefully, he settled the treats in his palm and let Sunshine move down his arm to start eating. For several minutes, Malcolm enjoyed the silence and Sunshine’s gentle weight. Focusing on her was easier than looking back on the day. “What would I do without you?” Bright asked, free hand still tracing over her feathers. She finished her treats and Malcolm just held her a bit longer. _ Anything to not think about Jessica, my feelings, Martin, and all the other shit. _

Unsure how long had passed, Malcolm eventually made his body move. He pulled out his phone, took a deep breath and unlocked it. _ Outrageous number of missed calls, voicemails, and the like. Where to start, where to start? _ The part of himself that was buried woke up and begged to hear the voicemails. But the part he’d shaped to resist won out and he opened his texts. _ Several from Ains, couple from JT, Dani, Edrisa. _ That made him smile a bit, she was such an interesting person and didn’t think less of him because of who his Father was. _ One from Gil but that was about twenty minutes ago, and Mother. _ Bright looked at the small red number next to her number and glared. Tapping them open and then backing out, Bright didn’t bother to read them. _ Only two options, she’s gonna apologize or act like it didn’t happen. Don’t care to know which it is today. _

As he read through each message from the different members of his team, Malcolm perked up a bit. It was nice knowing that they cared enough in their own ways to check in, even JT’s short, You good, bro? made his day better. He smiled as he opened Gil’s text. Short and to the point. 

Bed, kid, get some sleep. 

Malcolm wasn’t surprised that a lot of his calls were from Claremont but Jessica had called almost as many times. _ Oh look, even a couple voicemails. _He sneered at his phone for a moment before moving on from her messages to the ones from Claremont. His hand shook as he pressed play and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Malcolm, m’boy, please answer. I need to know you’re ok. That you’re breathing and safe. Just, please call me back.”

“Mal, sweetheart, call me as soon as you can.”

“My boy, please, I’m worried.”

With each message, Malcolm felt his throat tighten and eyes burn. _ No one but Gil cares. Why, why can’t that be enough? _ He’d forced himself to think of Dr. Whitly’s profile day in and day out. A small part of him longed to go back to thinking Martin honestly cared about him, loved him, would keep him safe. _ Stop, stop, stop. He’s a predatory psychopath, narcissist, pathological liar. He just wants to know that his connection to the outside is still functional. _

The last five, Malcolm deleted without listening to. No need to try and delude himself into thinking that Martin actually cared, that he would’ve stopped Jessica from hitting him, no reason to make himself feel worse than he was at the moment. _ Stop it, do what Gil said, need to sleep. _ Bright left his phone on the couch. The farther away it was the less he’d be tempted to check, to listen to the nice lies that Martin left. 

Sunshine hopped up on his wrist, pulling Bright’s attention away from the phone and the fucked up family that he had. He brushed his fingers over her head again, “Alright, we’re calling it a night. Time to actually listen to Gil.” She whistled softly as he put her back. “Not going in early tomorrow,” he continued, “Gil would probably kill me.”

**

Gil sat outside Malcolm’s apartment until he saw the lights go down. As he pulled away from the curb, he unlocked his phone and dialed a familiar number. After a few rings, the other person answered.

“We need to talk.”


End file.
